For A Little While
by ramble40
Summary: This is a little sad side story of my favorite sons of Feanor. It takes place after the 3rd kinslaying and before and during the war of wrath. OC and Silmarillion characters. Changed rating to M because chapter 8 and beyond gets a little racy and for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing. I am simply someone who loves Tolkien's work. I am terrified of making anything public as I have never done this before but not only welcome but beg for feedback. My use of the language is weak, I know. All I ask is that you be gentle as this is my first time. There are so many great writers on here, you inspire me. Any assistance with the Quenya and Sindarin is MORE than welcome!

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~oOo~

He paused briefly as he followed Thannor into the clearing. His men were finishing off the last of the orcs that they had been tracking when he saw her. She stood (barely) at the center of the clearing, sword held out in front of her, pointed towards the three of his men that stood staring at her curiously, like some feral animal that they had finally cornered and were now at a loss on what to do next. She was covered in blood, not all hers, and was losing color by the second. She would not be standing much longer. In truth, he could not figure out how she was still standing now. Anytime anyone made any kind of motion towards her the sword was quickly thrust in that direction.

"She brought down the warg and its rider herself," said Thannor, "and wounded another before we arrived. But now she will not let any of us near her."

He glanced at her again. Her hair was matted and wet and stuck to her face and neck. And her eyes. Even as she struggled to keep them focused he could see the blind rage that burned in them. Rage and adrenaline is what kept her up now and that was quickly failing. He felt himself grow impatient and made the decision to simply walk up and take the sword out of her hand when he saw it. As he moved, she whipped the blade in his direction and placed her wild eyed stare on him. It was in that one quick movement that he caught a quick glimpse of why she was still alive. Just a flash really, of dark hair and wide eyes that did not even meet her waist yet. Small and frail and for her invaluable, a child of, perhaps two, maybe three. He turned back to Thannor.

"I know" said Thannor. "We found the body of another young boy, barely to manhood further back. He had fought but was run through and died of his wounds."

He nodded and waved his hand. He knew what orcs did to those they caught. He did not need to hear more. He turned back to the woman in front of him and felt a slight twinge in his chest. It still happened to him from time to time. Empathy. He could see and feel her pain even more clearly now. He knew of loss. Inwardly he sighed.

"Get back" he ordered.

The three soldiers who had been pondering their next move immediately moved back to the tree line to assist their brothers in the cleanup, happy to hand over the situation. She jerked at the movement of the other soldiers, unsure where to point and settled back on him since he still stared at her. As their eyes locked again, she wobbled slightly but still held the sword between them. Inwardly, he sighed again.

As he began to approach her a few of his men stopped to watch. While they were curious about this woman who had managed on her own to bring down a warg and the rider and possibly wounded another, they would continue to be at the ready for their lord. For them it meant that she was not to be underestimated. When he came to a few feet between them, he lowered his sword slowly to the ground in front of her and raised his empty left hand in to the air, his right arm he extended out but remained draped under is cloak. She swayed back and forth, eyes struggling to stay focused. Pain and anguish came off of her in waves, but it was kept in check by a rage that seemed to burn everything else away. Pain, anguish, rage. _Yes, yes _he thought dismissively, _it comes to us all. Her journey is no different. She will accept it or she will die._ He gestured to her and spoke.

"_Lyé ná mala_", he said. She froze.

"_Ní vanda uimala nalye_." She blinked at him in confusion. Although he knew she would not understand, he spoke in Quenya, for he knew the language of his people was sometimes like music to the second born and may be soothing to her ear.

"_Mapa camba-nya_" he said softly, reaching his hand out to her.

With each word he spoke, he saw her strength began to slowly ebb away. Her eyes never left his, and therefore he saw the exact moment when she went from the edge of madness, to a sort of hopelessness, and finally surrender. With a loud exhale of breath, her arms fell to her side and her shoulders slumped, sword dangling limp from her hand. He caught her before she ever had the chance to fall to her knees._ Seems there is more than one person who can use their voice_ he thought, quite satisfied with himself. In one fluid movement he scooped her up and carried her over to Thannor. While Thannor bundled her up and prepared to ride, he turned his gaze back to the clearing and looked at the tiny figure that was staring back at him. If he had not known that the child was back there he could have been missed among the dead carcasses that had been piled up to burn. The child did not move, only stared wide eyed from behind a tear streaked face, obviously in shock. He did not expect any form of resistance, but still he did not want to distress the lapsë anymore.

_Lapsë?_ _You are becoming as soft as your brother._

The little pile of tears and dirt with the saucer eyes stared at him, waiting.

_Another child, _he thought wryly, _Macalaurë_ _will be so pleased_.

He turned his mind back to the task at hand and went to the nearest horse and pulled a spare cloak from a saddle bag. He then walked over to the child and knelt down before him. Wrapping him up in the blanket and gently lifting him up, he cradled in his arm and studied the little face with the large eyes that stared up at him. _Young, so young._ There did not seem to be any major physical harm done. Aside from some minor scratches and bruising, he felt that physically, the child would be fine. Again he thought about shock and handed to child over to one of his men and ordered Thannor to personally see that the babe and his mother were taken care of. He did not know if the mother would live but would do what he could. In these dark times there was not much more he could do. And regardless of what was said, he was not so far gone that he would not help those in need. After Thannor had ridden off he turned back to the clearing and retrieved his sword. His men were dragging the last of the filth to the center and prepared to light the fires. There was a time when he had thought that he would burn them all. He had truly believed that a long time ago. Those days were gone now but he would never stop hunting the beasts and the fire is the least of what they deserved. No, he would never stop hunting them. They had tracked this party of orcs almost all the way to the river Gelion. They were growing bold to come so close to his camp at Amon Ereb. He made the mental note to increase the watch all the way past the river if necessary. He walked over to the orc that the woman had killed. Or at least what was left of the orc, for its head had been cleaved in repeatedly. It was nothing more than a pile of mush and bone and stench and black blood now. Thannor had reported that she had still been hacking away at it when his men rode up. _A mother's rage_. The second orc made some sort of gurgling noise and he gave it a sideways glance. _Ah, still alive are we, _he thought. He grabbed the orc by the leg and dragged it over to the rest of the pile of filth before them. He turned to the men that were now standing by with torches.

"_Dosta hain pân." _

The fire lit up the night as it began its work. _Yes, burn them all._

"My lord Maedhros."

A voice from behind pulled him from his thoughts and he turned to see one of his men emerging from the dark carrying a smaller, carefully wrapped figure. _A mother's loss. _He stood and looked at the figure that his man held gently in his arms.

"He fought hard, my lord. I regret that we could not get there sooner."

Maedhros's mouth tightened oh so slightly when the elf said regret. How he loathed that word.

"We shall return him to his mother. He will receive a burial in accordance to his people's customs."

With that, he mounted his horse, and with the rest of his company, disappeared into the dark.

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_Macalaurë - Maglor_

___Lapsë - babe_

_____Dosta hain pân - Burn them all_

_______Lyé ná mala - you are hurt_

_________Ní vanda uimala nalye - I promise no harm to you_

___________Mapa camba-nya - take my hand_


	2. Chapter 2

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

* * *

~oOo~

_She heard nothing but the constant ring in her ears, high pitched and piercing. Almost like a scream. Or was that her? She could not tell anymore. The pain from her chest sent out waves of heat that seemed to cover every inch of her body. She could no longer see straight and it was painful to focus. It did not matter. She no longer wanted focus anyway. Her son was gone, she just wanted it to end. She had failed her children. It was over and if they wanted to kill her then they could. She just wished they would stop standing there and do something. She thought they were men but could not tell. Something was running in to her eyes making it even hard for her to focus. And that damn ringing in her ears only seemed to get louder. The heat in her limbs seemed to be subsiding though. Unfortunately now she was becoming acutely aware of the cold. She gripped the sword tighter and hoped she did not start trembling. If they were to die tonight it would not be quietly._

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~oOo~

Maglor looked over the new accommodations of the sleeping woman before him. She seemed to be resting somewhat more peacefully now, for the moment anyway. There was some slight color back in her cheeks and her breathing was slow and steady. And she was even having moments of semi-consciousness, although those were difficult and brought on by nightmares. She still had a long road to travel with her recovery though and he knew it would not be easy. He looked at the bandages that covered her throat and wondered if it would affect her speech. It would most certainly scar. Yes, she had a very long road ahead of her. But that was not the reason why he had her moved into the keep and into the room that had previously been Maedhros's study. He laid the plate of food he was holding down on the floor in front of the bed and then stepped back and waited. Only a few moments went by before a little hand appeared and slowly pulled the plate under the bed. Maglor smiled slightly and reached behind him for a chair to sit and wait. He took the plate relatively quickly for having his environment upended again. He felt it was a good sign. Elrond and Elros would be pleased to hear this for they had taken a great interest in the boy once they learned he was here and were concerned that the move may have hurt his progress in some way. He settled himself into a chair next to the bed to wait and allowed his mind to drift to the time when the twins had first come to him, begging him to intervene.

"He will not speak."

"He will not eat."

"He just sits there . . . "

" . . . Staring!"

"He responds to nothing and hides from everyone."

"He is wasting away Maglor, you must help him!"

"You will help him."

"Please?"

"Please."

Maglor had sat at his study, chin resting in his hands as his eyes moved back and forth between the two as they spoke. They had rehearsed for this one. When they had finished, he did not move but studied them more closely. They had grown much since they were brought here. They looked to be almost twelve years old now but it was hard for Maglor to tell. The rate at which they matured was completely unknown to him as he had never known peredhil before, much less raised one. It was a learning experience for them all. When they had first arrived they were inseparable and so much alike that he had gotten them confused quite often. But now, the individual was starting to come out. Elros is excitable, adventurous and easily distracted whereas Elrond is calmer, careful and enjoyed his studies. With a deep sigh Maglor stood up from his desk and stared down at the twin faces that stared expectantly back at him. He would never get anything done anyway. Clasping his hands behind his back he slowly turned and walked towards the door. While Carnistir had spoken often of the potential of men, he never thought very highly of them. Not since Nirnaeth Arnoediad. He had experienced their propensity for treachery first hand and since then did not concern himself with their troubles. But this was just a child. And in his mind, a child's fëa is pure and free of taint and therefore worthy of saving. Maglor did not know if the edain could die from a broken heart but he was in no mood to find out now.

He turned back to look at them one more time. "Well?" he said. "Come along then." The boys smiled and jumped up after him.

And this is how it went every day for the last week and a half, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. A plate of food brought to the house of healing and left on the floor next to the bed of a wounded woman for the child that hid underneath it. When he was able to finally glimpse the boy he saw how thin and frail he was. Healer Hestil informed him on how unresponsive the child was. He was not eating and never left his mother's bed. He hardly slept and when he did finally pass out from exhaustion, sleep would be fitful and awakened with screams. They always left a candle burning for him because the dark would only bring out more weeping. Things would have to be taken very slowly.

The first few days consisted of the three of them arriving in the sick room to take their meals. They would set up across the room and lay a plate down on the floor at the foot of the bed. They would quietly talk of their day or the lessons for the day and carry on as they would normally. And for those first three days nothing happened that they could see. When they finished their meals they would gather up their things and make their way out of the room, leaving the full plate of food sitting on the floor where they set it. It was not till the end of the fourth day that Maglor actually saw the child take the plate. As they gathered their things to go he caught some movement from the corner of his eye and saw a small hand emerge from under the bed to snatch a piece of fruit and retreat back into the dark. This had pleased Elrond and Elros endlessly. They began to take their time more and started to bring parchment for reading after lunch and arrows to shape and fletch. But the first major breakthrough did not come till the end of that first week after dinner, when Elros brought Maglor's harp. This had taken him by surprise.

"I just thought that . . . well . . . if your music can make Maedhros smile . . ." he trailed off, uncertain now if had done the right thing. Elrond simply stared intently at Maglor from where he sat on the floor. Maglor recovered quickly and took the harp from Elros.

"Of course" he said. "Making Maedhros smile is no small measure." Elros grinned and sat down across from his brother, giving him a look that quite literally shouted I told you so. If Elrond was bothered, he showed nothing. He simply stretched his long legs in from of him and crossed one foot over the other, waiting. Maglor settled himself in his chair with the harp and began to play. A playful tune at first, one of the first songs he learned as child. Something to make the twins smile. But as the night progressed and his fingers warmed up, the music became more intricate, more complex and the room almost seemed to become a dream. When Maglor finally stopped playing he realized he must have lost track of time, but no one seemed to mind. Elrond had leaned back against the wall with his hands behind his head and his eyes shut. Elros hand lain completely on the floor, his head resting on Elrond's leg. Hestil was just standing in the corner wiping away tears and across the room and under the bed, a little face poked out from the dark space, his head resting in his hands as he lay on his stomach. Maglor set the harp down and went over to the twins nudging them gently.

"Come peredhil, to your rooms."

They very sleepily rose from where they sat and almost like they were in a trance bid him good night and left for their rooms. After they had left and Hestil had composed herself enough bid him goodnight too, he turned to where the little face still stuck out from under the bed regarding him quietly. After a moment he crossed over to the bed of the sleeping woman, knelt down and smiled. The child never moved. He simply looked at Maglor with two very large, dark eyes, and smiled back.

The next morning they arrived as usual with their trays of food to find the child sitting at the table waiting for them. If the twins were surprised they gave away nothing. They simply set down the trays and started handing out plates of food for their breakfast. Hestil stood behind the child with a smile so wide it nearly split her face in two.

"He almost slept the whole night, my lord!" she very excitedly told Maglor. "Your presence has been magic!"

Unfortunately, that would be the last time she would feel that way. For while she was happy the child continued to make excellent progress, after three days of having three young boys bounding around the house of healing, Hestil had had enough.

"Forgive me but this is a house of HEALING, my lord" Hestil said most exacerbated. "Patients need rest! Not very loud lessons on the game of snakes and stones! This just will not do, my lord, begging your pardon but it will not do!"

Maglor agreed. He was starting to grow a little weary of bring his meals out every day anyway. So he decided it would be best to move the boy and his mother into the main house. This is why he now found himself in what was formally Maedhros's study. He chose Maedhros's study for two reasons. The first being that it was large and had a side room that led out to a courtyard area. This way he and the twins could continue to spend time with the child without disturbing his mother's recovery. The second and more important reason was that Maedhros was conveniently not here. And seeing as how all of this was thrust into his lap because his brother became soft over an edain child, he saw no reason why he should give up any of his rooms. Maedhros was hardly ever here anyway and would just have to accept it. He winced slightly at the thought of Maedhros accepting it. Oh well, he would handle it, he usually did. A light tug at his tunic pull Maglor from is thoughts. He looked down to see the child standing before him, empty plate in hand. _Well look who is out and about_, he thought. He smiled down at the boy as he took the plate and placed it on the nearby table. The boy looked cautiously about the room, occasionally casting Maglor an anxious glance here and there. Maglor let the boy roam freely, allowing him to become comfortable in his new surroundings. It was in that moment that he suddenly realized that he did not know the child's name. Almost two weeks and still no name. In fact he was not sure the child even knew his either. When the boy finally came back over to where Maglor stood, he knelt down before him.

"Do you have a name child?" he asked softly, almost in a whisper. The boy just stared at him and said nothing.

"I am Maglor" he said. "The two young boys outside are m-", he paused " . . . are Elrond and Elros." Still nothing from the boy. Maglor slowly reached out and lightly touched the child's hand. He did not take it, only initiated a light physical contact.

"You must not fear me. You and your mother are safe here. No harm will ever come to either of you while you are behind these walls. You must believe me. Do you understand?"

Maglor remained kneeling in front of him waiting to see if he would get a response. The boy's eyes moved from Maglor to his mother who stirred slightly in her bed. And then, in what seemed like an almost absentminded gesture, the child reached up and began to fiddle with the embroidery on Maglor's collar. Maglor did not move.

"Evon" the child said. When Maglor did not respond, the child turned and looked at him.

"Evon" he said again and then his turned full attention to Maglor's collar. Maglor smiled.

"Evon" he said back to him and let him play with his collar till his knees began to protest. But that was a small matter to him at the moment. For the first time he truly believed this would work out well for the little edain after all.

Of course he never anticipated Maedhros's return that evening.


	3. Chapter 3

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

I would like to thank the few messages of support I have received. Your kind words are greatly appreciated. This is my first time trying anything like this and I appreciate any advice or critics. Just please don't be a jerk cuz ain't nobody got time fo' dat! It has been pointed out to me that after the third kinslaying and before/during the war of wrath the brother's may have fled all the way back to the Isle of Balar. I have decided to keep them at Amon Ereb because I just can't see them being very welcomed in that area. Amon Ereb keeps them more in the mix of things when it comes to fighting orcs. I just think that is something that Maedhros would want to do. He knows he can't defeat Morgoth but he can at least kill his minions. It has also been pointed out that the word edain would not be used when referring to men until after the war of wrath and instead the word atani would be used. I will try to rectify this for the future. Thanks for the tips, they are appreciated.

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~oOo~

_She watched the figure move before her. It was huge and dark and massive to her blurry vision. It was death. It had to be. It had finally come to drag her and her children down into its dark, endless depths. It began to approach her, lowering itself slowly towards the ground for some strange reason before it stood up to its full height, looming over her with arms outstretched. I am not ready for you. You already have one son; you will not have this one too. She braced herself. And then death spoke. Almost immediately the ringing in her head stopped and the sound of the words spoken seemed to move all around her. The darkness that seemed to want to swallow her before was pushed away by a brilliant and beautiful light. She was unaware of her arms dropping to her sides or the sword hanging loosely from her hand. She only knew that she could go no further. Suddenly, the light seemed to envelope her all at once and pull her in. The last thing she remembered before unconsciousness took her, were the eyes. Two great silver eyes that seemed to contain the light of a thousand stars, surrounded by a dark, dark fire._

* * *

~oOo~

Maglor set the harp down and stepped carefully over the three sleeping figures. He had reservations about allowing the twins to sleep in the room, but they did seem to have a calming effect on the boy, so he decided to leave them where they lay. If the boy woke in the night Elrond or Elros would know where to find him and Hestil had sent one of the healers to watch the mother through the night so they would not be alone. As he left the room he thought to himself about the day's events and felt they went well. The twins were especially happy. They were quite taken with the boy. This was not very surprising to Maglor as there are no other children in the keep. If ever one of the men took a wife Maedhros tended to cut back on their duties and if they had a child they were relieved from service all together. This tended to make an already bleak existence even bleaker. But the ability of the peredhil to adapt was strong as well as necessary, so adapt they did. They had weathered much since being found by Maglor and his brother. He remembered how they found them in a small camp at a waterfall near the Sirion. The Havens. A million images and memories flooded his consciousness and he immediately and instinctively pushed them all out of his mind. Today went too well to punish himself with the nightmares of the past. He always had tomorrow to make himself miserable. For now he would just content himself with the progress Evon had made and the effort put forth by Elrond and Elros. The next challenge would be the mother. He felt no guilt when he thought of how little of his attention he had given her recovery. But for the sake of the child, it was something he would have to take more interest in. It was only practical to assume that Evon's recovery would be affected by hers and he did not wish to see him succumb to grief. Maglor chastised himself for his lack of concern. It was not fair to hold against this woman the treacherous actions of men past. Many of the race of men had come into his and his brother's service when Thargelion was overrun. Refugees come regularly into Amon Ereb and many willingly stay when the majority of their own people had left long ago. Whether they were unknowing or indifferent to the bloody events of the brother's past made no difference to Maedhros as long as they were willing to hunt orcs. Personally Maglor felt it had to do with the peredhil and their relation to Tour and Beren. Either way, it mattered not. It was time to let this bitterness that he carried go. As he pushed open the door to his chambers, he was making the decision to rectify this within himself when he froze. The fire was lit in his room, bathing it in warmth and light, and in front of that fire reclined in one of the chairs, was Maedhros. His long legs stretched out in front of him still in riding boots. His head leaned against his left hand, fingers lightly tapping his temple while his right arm dangled over the other side of the chair draped beneath the layers of his riding cloak, as per usual. _He has not yet changed, _thought Maglor, _he must have just arrived. Perhaps there is still time to prepare him . . . _

"I went to my study . . . "

_Or perhaps not._

"Imagine my surprise -"

"I did not know you had returned -"

"– when I walk in –"

"I was going to tell you -"

"– to find that it had been converted to a sick room –"

"Maedhros . . ."

"- for a near dead atani woman and her child. "

"Maitmo please . . . "

"But what was even more surprising, almost shocking really –"

"Let me explain what -"

"– was that you were playing." Throughout this entire back and forth, Maedhros had never looked up at his brother. His eyes remained fixed on the fire until that last sentence. Now they were locked on to Maglor's and he thought he might drown in the sadness that filled them. The pain in his eyes was different from the usual guilt and shame that they carried. That was a part of them now and accepted. But this was something else, some new pain that Maglor did not know. He walked over to the chair across from his brother and took a seat.

"You were playing. And I listened to you Macalaurë. I stood and listened to every note because . . . well because, I could not move."

Maglor said nothing. He must have come in while he was getting the boys to sleep. He had never heard him come in. He studied his brother. He was still covered with grime from the day's travels. His hair was partially bound back and loosely fell about his face. He looked so weary, so tired, and in truth he was. They both were. The terrible oath had drained so much out of them, out of their life. Maglor wondered sometimes if they even had a fëa left to save. And if there was, was it even worth saving.

"It was good to hear you play again," sighed Maedhros, who had gone back to looking at the fire again and fiddling with something in his lap. "Pity you did not sing. I might have almost felt young again. Now, do you mind telling me what has happened to my study?" It was Maglor's turn to sigh.

"I had meant to tell you when you first came in" Maglor started to explain. "The woman's injuries are quite severe and are taking some time to heal. Evon on the other hand has healed rapidly, well, at least physically and -"

"Evon?" Maedhros asked placidly.

"Yes, Evon. The child's name is Evon. They do name their young," Maglor said dryly. Maedhros simply raised his eyebrows almost too innocuously, continuing to fiddle with whatever was in his lap.

"As I was saying," continued Maglor, the concern he had felt started to get replaced by annoyance "Physically _Evon_ has healed well, but mentally and emotionally has been more of a challenge. Elrond and Elros are became very concerned for his wellbeing and asked me to assist."

"Did they?" Tap, tap, tap went Maedhros's finger on the item in his lap.

"Yes they did," Maglor said, glancing at Maedhros's lap glimpsing what he thought was a piece of parchment. "They have become quite attached to the child and I could not have them running around the healing house disturbing Hestil."

"No, I guess you could not," answered Maedhros. Tap, tap, tap on the paper.

"Your study is large enough to accommodate the mother and the child and has a side room with an entrance to the courtyard. The twins can practice forms and lessons and see the boy while not disturbing the mother."

Tap, tap, tap.

"If the mother is able to survive her wounds and becomes strong enough I will move them immediately. I have never seen the peredhil take such an interest before and I will not deny them this. It is has been good for all of them. I cannot even say if the woman will survive her wounds. Her sleep is fitful and if she does wake who knows what the grief will do. You are rarely here; will you truly miss the room? If so I will relocate them elsewhere. _Maedhros what is in your hand!?"_

The last part had come out a little louder than Maglor had intended but his brother was being quite irritating. The consistent flicking of the parchment in his hand distracted Maglor to the point of his speech becoming so rushed that by the end he practically spat the words out. Maedhros on the other hand never moved. He stopped tapping the parchment though and Maglor now thought the room had become eerily quiet. Maedhros slowly looked up at him and for the second time that night Maglor stared into his brother's eyes and felt his heart might break. _What has happened Maitmo? What has done this to you? Not the oath, please not the oath. _Suddenly Maedhros stood up and looked at the piece of parchment in his hand. He spoke softly.

"The woman will survive. She woke briefly while you played; I was able to look at her. Her fëa is still strong. She will live." Maedhros handed the parchment to Maglor and walked towards the door. When he got there he stopped and spoke once more before leaving.

"You should play more often Macalaurë. It brought some peace to her rest. It brings everyone a sense of peace when you play, even if only for a little while." And with that he left.

Maglor looked at the parchment in his lap. He opened it and read the words that had rendered his brother into the shell that had sat before him a moment ago. It was a summons. A summons from Eönwë that called now all Elves, men, dwarves, beasts, and birds unto his standard who did not elect to fight for Morgoth. Maglor's stared wide eyed at the fire that was dying before him, the hand that held the letter dropped over the side of the chair while the other balled into a fist. _The Valar are coming, _he thought unable to suppress the bitterness that began to burn inside him. _The Valar are coming to wage war against Morgoth._


	4. Chapter 4

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

First time with the dwarvish language so if anyone had any tips feel free to send them my way. I always felt that Maedhros wouldn't hold anything against the dwarves. He and his brothers seemed to have good relations with them, except for Caranthir. But really, who ever got along with Caranthir except for Haleth? I hope I am not putting too much back story in here. I would love to get someone to help me proof read so if anyone knows how to approach someone to beta read for me, please let me know. I feel like I miss a lot of mistakes. I hope you enjoy. **Reviews are loooooove!**

* * *

~oOo~

Maedhros stepped out of his tent and took in the early morning air. The light of Vása was just starting to appear in the dark morning sky, giving off a soft pink glow from behind the hills of Amon Ereb. He stood outside and admired the last lights of Elentári winking out with the coming of Arien as he waited for Thannor to return. He had arrived from his patrols just moments ago and now wore no armor, just his tunic and breeches. His riding cloak that normally lay about his person was now draped over a chair in his tent, leaving his right arm exposed. The lights of Varda had always helped him to forget his deformities. That and there was no one around at the moment. His eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of movement along the hills. When he finally found what he was looking for in the distance, he gave pause. Thannor was returning but he was also accompanied by more than the elves he had left with. They were escorting a group of about ten to fifteen figures between them. Maedhros would have dismissed them for more refugees from Ossiriand, but this group was different. This was no lost band of displaced wanderers found in the wild. They were dwarves. It looked to be a group of nine men and five women . . . or twelve men and two women . . . or it could be all men or all women, Maedhros would not know until they came into the camp. The Gonnhirrum could be a difficult race to tell apart up close and all but impossible from a distance. It was the beards. He decided that he would wait until they made their introductions before assuming. Judging by the manor of the companies approach, he felt that there had been no trouble when Thannor had come across them. Their gait was swift, but casual and at ease. It had been some time since he had dealing with Aulë's people. While they are sturdy and fierce fighters and had hate for Morgoth and his creations, relations between their peoples were seldom now, since the sack of Menegroth. They must have some need to allow Thannor and company to escort them into camp so willingly. Perhaps seeking supplies or are looking to trade for provisions while they travel. He called to Nidthor and instructed him to make materials ready just in case. While many of his peoples did not care for the Naugrim since the death (or murder, depending on who you were talking to) of Thingol, Maedhros would trade with them still. Thingol had become a fool who should have returned to the rightful owners what never belonged to him long ago. And the Naugrim? Well, everyone knew of their obsession with anything that shines. It seemed only typical that they would create a gift so beautiful that they would end up coveting it for themselves. In his heart though, Maedhros knew the fault was not theirs alone. The obsession was not brought on by their own making. No, that obsession had been made centuries ago and filled with the purest of lights that was capable of creating the darkest of compulsions. Maedhros turned and entered his tent. He walked over to the chair where his cloak lay and swept it about his shoulders. No need to alarm anyone with his disfigurement. He then retrieved his boots and slipped them back on. _Always one for propriety, _he thought with a slight smile. He stepped out into the full morning sun as Thannor approached the tent.

"My lord, we came across these Naugrim near where the Thalos meets the Gelion. They are seeking minor provisions as they travel north."

The slight disdain in Thannor's tone made him reassess the nature of their escort. If they had been forced to accompany Thannor then this could become most unpleasant very quickly. Maedhros regarded the group of dwarves that stood behind Thannor. Ten males and at least four females and all armed to the teeth. One of the women(?) had an axe strapped to her back twice as large as any of the men. By the looks of their clothes they had been traveling for some distance. The distrust in their eyes as they looked about the camp was obvious and they made no effort to hide their contempt. Maedhros felt it would be best to diffuse the situation quickly. He crossed over to their group and lowered his head as he spoke.

"Huglgla baruk Khazâd. Who among you may I call èzùkhas of your company?"

Maedhros looked up as he finished speaking and found it fascinating how a race of peoples so small could make it appear like they were looking down upon you. One of the dwarves stepped forward and dropped the blade end of his sword into the ground, resting his hands on the hilt as he spoke.

"I am Starrak, son of Thomek and I lead here, though there is no need to call me chief," he said as he regarded Maedhros a little more closely. "To whom do I speak who has such familiarity with our tongue." Maedhros noticed how this was not a question.

"I am Maedhros, son of Feanor. This is my camp and I welcome you." Starrak blinked when he heard his name and nodded his head.

"Ah yes," said Starrak. "Barazel." This caused a slight stir with the company of dwarves behind Starrak. Maedhros suppressed a smile. _Barazel,_ he thought, _red-of-red. They are Azaghâl's people. Never were very clever with their naming. _Azaghâl, first ruler of Belegost. He was a loyal ally, a fierce fighter, and a great leader to his people. Maedhros had saved his life, and more importantly his treasure, from the Enemy some time ago. In gratitude, Azaghâl had given him his helm made by the greatest of dwarvish smiths, Telchar. Maedhros remembered the dragon upon it gleaming in the sun when he gave it to – the sudden pain that shot through his right arm was so intense that he grasped his forearm before he knew what he was doing; his face tightening with pain. _Stop thinking of the past,_ he thought vehemently to himself. He glanced at Starrak to see the dwarf squinting at him curiously. Maedhros, who had some understanding of the nature of dwarves, pulled his cloak back revealing the stump where his hand used to be at the end of his right arm.

"Forgive me," he said, "old wounds." As Maedhros pulled the cloak back over his arm, several of the elves that stood by glanced away or turned their heads all together. Whether out of repect or revulsion, Maedhros did not know nor did he care. Starrak, on the other hand simply harrumphed in acknowledgement while the dwarves behind him chuckled.

"Askad ubùrûsh," he said unimpressed. "The shadow pain. Yes, Yes, I know this." He reached down and lifted the leg of his trousers and tapped his sword on the wooden peg leg beneath them. One of the male(?) dwarves behind him came forward to show off his prosthetic arm that was fitted with a hammer on the end. The reactions of the elves around them elicited more laughter from the dwarves. _Looks as if I am amoung equals, _though Maedhros dryly. _Wonderful. At least the tension is broken._ He stood up straight before Starrak and spoke again.

"Welcome Starrak, son of Thomek. If you and your party have supplies that need replenishing, I offer you whatever I have. I invite you to join me in my tent so that I may find out any news from the road."

"Thank you Barazel. I accept your offer." Starrak then turned to the dwarves behind him and spoke in Khuzdul and iglishmek, the dwarvish sign language. They nodded and relaxed their stance but still looked on the elves with not so subtle contempt in their eyes. Starrak signaled to one of is men and they followed Maedhros into his tent. The tent was not overly large. Maedhros did not carry much when on these forays into the wild, so as to make travel that much quicker and easier. But it was large enough to accommodate a table with chairs. He had a space laid out with food and wine for his guests. The two smaller chairs he had set out were brought for when Maglor would come with the peredhil. He felt they would suit the dwarves just fine. Maedhros gestured for them to take a seat and began to pour some wine. As they got settled he took this moment to study his guests. Starrak was a broad dwarf, much like the shape of the majority of his people. He took off his helm to reveal a full head of grey hair pulled back into a loose braid. His beard, which was also solid grey, fell down to his waist and covered the majority of his girth. He wore a shirt of mail underneath a leather jerkin and a belt that strapped over his shoulder and was covered with knives. And all of this was covered under a thick traveling coat of fur that reached almost to the floor. His companion had long white hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. And, in a surprising turn to Maedhros, no beard, just two long sideburns that grew somewhat small and scraggely down in front of his ears. He was almost evenly matched in dress with Starrak except instead of a sword, there were two large axes strapped to his back. _Two little mobile armories_, thought Maedhros. After they had made themselves comfortable, Maedhros handed them each a goblet and took a seat across from them. Thannor took up post just inside the tent at the entrance. Starrak took a deep gulp of his drink and spoke first.

"I thank you for your hospitality, lord Maedhros. It is not a common thing between our peoples in this day and age. Allow me to introduce to you my wife, Belmaea. I hope 'tis no bother that I brought her with me."

Maedhros made sure to control is expression very, very carefully. He was glad that Thannor was standing behind them and out of their line of site.

"Of course not, master Starrak. You are both very welcome." He turned to Starrak's wife and bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. "My lady." Starraks wife guffawed at the term.

"You will call me Belmaea, good sir. No need for your fancy airs." She chuckled to herself as she drank her wine. Starrak simply smiled into his cup and stared at Maedhros.

"Of course, Belmaea," Maedhros said politely. "You are of Thrár's tribe, yes? Tell me, what brings you this far from Belegost and have you any news from your travels?"

This question brought both dwarves to a halt in their laughter. Belmaea looked at her husband and said nothing. Starrak simply stared at Maedhros for a moment before he spoke.

"You know, my father told me great stories about you." If Maedhros was taken aback, he showed nothing. He simply allowed Starrak to talk. "You'd not know this, but he was a part of the guard you aided with our King Azaghál."

And that is how the next hour or so went. With Starrak telling stories of how his father rode out with their king and the mighty prince of the Noldor that came to their aide. He remembered when his father rode out again with their king to answer the call for the last union of dwarves, elves, and men against the Enemy. Maedhros knew this union well. Belmaea would occasionally interject, telling Starrak that he had it all wrong and correct a name or date of a certain event. They talked of battles past and allies that were lost. It was not lost upon Maedhros that they never once touched upon the topics of the treacherous acts of the dwarves of Nogrod or the evil of the kinslayings. And for this Maedhros was grateful. It was several carafes of wine later before Starrak, who was very red in the face by this point, even began to touch on why they were traveling. They were coming from the coast, from the Isle of Balar. They had been engaged in work for the High King Gil-Galad and Cirdan the shipwright. They were assisting the high lords with their armories. They were the last few of their kind who would come into contact, or much less offer service to the elves. A nasty business dealing with some of those sindar as far as Belmaea was concerned, but good money. Orcs roamed freely and unchecked through most of Beleriand making travel through there perilous for most. But Starrak said that his group were not like most and knew that if he could make it to Amon Ereb, that there were still points of safety there and some paths not as dangerous. Not the choice he would have preferred mind you, taking such a dangerous road, but they had need for haste to return to Belegost, what with the summons that they carried and a war coming. It took a moment for Maedhros to realize that Starrak had abruptly stopped speaking. While the wine did not affect Maedhros in the least, the constant droning of Starrak's voice had lulled him into a semi-conscious state. He suddenly realized that the dwarf had let something slip in his rambling. Belmaea had nearly choked on her wine and sat there with wide and wary eyes that darted between Starrak and Maedhros. Starrak simply put his cup down and said nothing. Maedhros let the silence hang in the air for a moment before he spoke.

"What war."

* * *

~oOo~

Maedhros stood at the entrance of his tent and watched the party of dwarves head off into the distance. The parchment in his hand bore down on his person heavier than any chain in Thangorodrim. Starrak had stood and stared at Maedhros defiantly, letting him know that he would tell him what he wanted him to know and nothing more. He went on to say how he was in Balar when the summons had come to the High King Gil-Galad. How it bore the seal of Eönwë himself, chief of the Maiar, herald and banner-bearer to Manwë. It announced the coming of the Valar to Beleriand and summoned now all Elves, Men, Dwarves, beasts and birds unto his standard who did not elect to fight for Morgoth_._ He said that Gil-Galad then released him from his task so that he may deliver this summons to his own people. Starrak had stated how he had thought this would please the High King, but instead he said Gil-Galad only had a look of sorrow. This is where Starrak gave pause and looked to Maedhros with genuine remorse; all trace of defiance was gone from his eyes.

"I am sorry Barazel, please believe me when I say I am sorry, but . . . the Valar have decreed . . . none of the Noldor in exile may join. Not even the High King himself."

Maedhros stood in the mid-morning sun and stared into the sky. Starrak was right. The High King of the Noldor would not join. He would remain dispossessed, constantly reminded of the failure and ruin he had brought to his kin. Maedros looked down at the parchment in his hand and called out to Thannor.

"Strike camp. We leave within the hour." He turned and retreated into his tent.

* * *

~oOo~

_She could hear music again. It surrounded her, wrapping around her, covering her in calm and snuffing out the nightmares that tormented her endlessly. There was no pain, no fear. She felt herself float with the music as it cradled her in a gentle embrace. She wanted to touch it, to hold it. She almost thought she could. She struggled to open her eyes. She wanted to see it moving around her. She was sure she would be able to. Where were Evon and Dannil? They should see this too. Her eyes fluttered and she fought to focus. Through the haze she saw a figure standing over her and reached out thinking that perhaps this was the source of the music she heard. The figure turned and she was confronted with a brilliant light that seemed so familiar. She felt what she thought was a hand on the side of her face and forced herself to focus. It was then when she saw the eyes. Those eyes! They were silver and gray held the light of thousands of stars in them. She felt as if they looked into her very being. As she began to focus slightly, she could start to see a face around those eyes. She reached up and gently brushed her fingers along the cheek of the being before her. It was a beautiful face. Far too beautiful to be real. This is not real, she thought. This is a dream and I do not want to wake. The hand that held her face moved away and the vision before her pulled back, leaving a sort of emptiness in its absence. Just a dream, she thought again. She closed her eyes and the music wrapped itself around her once more until a sleep free of dark visions took her to rest._

* * *

èzùkhas - dwarvish for "Chief"

Barazel - dwarvish for "red-of-red"

Huglgla baruk Khazâd - dwarvish for "hello axes of dwarves"


	5. Chapter 5

I hope this doesn't run on too long. Thank you again for the messages of encouragement. I am looking for any kind of review though. I feel as if I ramble a bit much and leave important things out. To the grammar nazis out there, I would actually like to thank you. I desperately need people like you pointing these things out. I like to think that your OCD comes from an honest place. You . . . complete me

Maitimo - Maedhros

Findekáno - Fingon

Macalaurë - Maglor

Once again, I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

* * *

~oOo~

"You must be aware of your surroundings Elros," said Maglor, "pay attention." Elrond held out his hand to help his brother up from the ground but Elros swatted his brother's hand away and pulled himself up on his own.

"You used the stump to trip me," exclaimed Elros as he snatched his practice sword from the ground. "That is cheating!" He brushed himself off and glowered at Maglor as he wiped the sweat from his eyes. His shirt was soaked from exertion and his breeches had the beginning of a small tear at the knee. Maglor stood in the sun, his tunic and breeches showing no sign of wear much less moisture. He looked down and flicked a piece of dirt off of his boot with the practice sword.

"Sending an opponent backward over an obstacle is always a good thing. If you would-," Maglor smoothly dropped down and swept his leg underneath the oncoming Elros, simultaneously avoiding the young peredhil's sudden surprise attack and sending him sprawling once again. "Your hands and shoulders tense when you are about to strike," said Maglor as he straightened back up. "Stop glancing in the direction you that are going to move." Elros picked himself up again and turned to face Maglor. He dropped down into his fighting stance, raising his sword to a high ward position. They continued to spar in the round; Elros pressing his attack and Maglor parrying effortlessly. So effortlessly that Elros became increasingly frustrated and in a desperate attempt to catch Maglor off guard, he leapt at him in the air, swinging his sword over his head. Maglor easily avoided the attack and smacked Elros across the shins for good measure. Elros cried out, dropping his sword and grabbing his leg as he hopped around in a circle.

"Your feet belong on the ground in a sword fight Elros." said Maglor. Elros gave Maglor a disgruntled look.

"My leg!" he cried indignantly.

"Legs are targets," replied Maglor. "A combatant can win simply by letting an opponent bleed out after a slash to the leg."

Elros rubbed his shins while giving Maglor a rather sullen look.

"Oh, stop your pouting. We have all taken our hits today." said Elrond, who was nursing a nice bruise on the side of his face himself. Maglor looked to the sky and saw the sun had moved high above.

"Come," said Maglor, "this will be enough for today. It is time to lunch and when you are hungry, you are irritable. Gather your things and see to Evon." The child had been sitting on the outskirts of the sparring circle, having his own lessons with some of the small wooden soldiers that Elros had carved for him. Elrond turned and scooped him up, swinging him around so he could ride on his back. It was the child's favorite mode of transportation. Evon laughed and wrapped his arms around Elrond's neck, resting his tiny chin on the older boy's shoulder. Elros began to limp to the center of the ring, making quite a show of it, and retrieved his sword. As he crossed back, upon reaching the center of the ring were Maglor stood he suddenly spun around and brought his sword down towards Maglors leg. Maglor pivoted on his foot, catching Elros's sword with his own and parried the blow all the way back over the elfin's head. With an almost casual flick of his wrist he popped the sword out of Elros's hand. Elros immediately leapt several feet back to avoid the blow that was aimed at his midsection. Maglor lowered his sword and looked down at Elros who was on the ground yet again. Elros graced him with a lopsided grin and blew his long dark hair out of his face.

"I will tag you eventually," he said, smile widening as he looked up at Maglor. Maglor extended his hand to him and hoisted him onto his feet.

"Yes, I am sure you will . . . eventually," he answered. Elros's smile widened even more (if that was possible) and loped over to retrieve his sword yet again.

"Maglor," he called, "when will Maedhros return? He said he would work the long-staves with me."

Maglor sighed. He could feel Elrond's eyes boring into the back of his head. "I cannot say Elros, because I do not know." That was the truth. Maedhros came and went most unpredictably these days. He could be back at the main encampment at Amon Ereb for days before Maglor would know of it, and then disappear just as suddenly.

"He is watching for the coming of the Valar isn't he."

Maglor turned to look at Elrond. The young elf stood there with Evon, face impassive.

"Gather you things and go inside. Evon looks to be falling asleep. If Maedhros is unable, I will work the staves with you tomorrow Elros."

Maglor watched the three children leave. Children. He was not sure if he could call the peredhil that for much longer. By all appearances they looked to about twelve to thirteen, exceptionally tall but still youthful. Intellectually they were far more mature although not immune to childish behavior. Their elven nature was beginning to come through and most notably with Elrond. Maglor felt that there could be great power in him. He and his brother are descendants of Melian after all; the Magic is in their blood. Ever since Maedhros had announced the summons to the elves and men of their encampment, the twins had been intrigued. They had been asking questions about the Valar night and day. They desperately wanted to see them. Maglor worried they might even try to ride out to join. "One day you will," he had told them, "when you are older." Elros feared that it would be too late and Maglor hoped he was right, even though he knew better. The Valar are the only beings capable of defeating Morgoth. Maglor knew this now. But victory will not come swiftly or easily, and he feared the devastation to come. Morgoth will certainly destroy everything within his reach before he accepts defeat. He will not go quietly. Maglor sighed. He can do nothing about this. It was beyond him to intervene in any way. He would continue to raise the peredhil in the hopes that they will make better decisions than he. _Best to concern yourself with the present than obsess on the questions of the future, _he thought. As he walked into the main courtyard of the modest keep that was home, he came to an abrupt stop. There in the center of the courtyard stood a small, pale atani woman. Evon's mother. Maglor did not move as he observed her. This was the first time that he knew of that he had ever seen her out of the study since she had regained consciousness. That had been a difficult time for Evon and the twins. Even though she was awake, she sat in an almost catatonic state. Not moving, or speaking, just blankly staring at nothing. Sometimes she would look down at Evon and stare at the child and maybe place a hand upon his head. Other times she would hold him and sob uncontrollably. Evenings were no better. It was difficult to watch because the boy so desperately wanted his mother's touch. The child would become almost inconsolable. Even Maedhros had noticed, mumbling something about her stupor before he disappeared again. Things had become so bad that Elros had made the decision that Evon would stay with them at night in their chambers. Maglor did not argue. Elrond and Elros both had come to care for the child and took great efforts in his wellbeing. Every evening they would take Evon in to say good night to his mother then walk him to their rooms where they would tuck in him bed and wait for Maglor to come with his harp. This had been going on for a month now. Maglor took a seat on the stone bench on the perimeter of the courtyard. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and hands together he studied the woman. She stood in the center, her faced turned up into the light of the sun, eyes closed. She looked frail and her face gaunt. Even from here he could see the dark circles under eyes. She was neither eating nor sleeping enough. He would have to talk to Hestil about finding something to aid in her rest at night. He noticed how the woman's oversized gown hung loosely to her tiny frame and pooled around her feet. Perhaps he will speak to Hestil about properly fitted clothing as well. As he glanced back to her face he realized that she was staring directly at him now. He sat up straight, feeling slightly embarrassed that he had been caught off guard. She stood there staring at him with an uncertain look in her eyes for several minutes. At first Maglor thought that she may turn the other way and run, but instead she began to approach him hesitantly. Maglor raised himself up to meet her but noticed how she froze momentarily when he stood and decided to let her cover the distance between them. As she began walking towards him again he could see the toll fatigue had taken on her person even more plainly. She looked emaciated and her long dark hair that was pulled back in several plaits looked to need a good rinsing; the scars on her neck and arms were healed but still red and puckered. He noticed how her large dark eyes darted around the courtyard as she approached him, almost as if she were looking for someone else and he wondered if he should send for Evon. When she finally reached him, he took in her appearance again and chided himself for not seeing fully to her needs. _Proper fitting attire and bath,_ he thought. _I will see that Hestil takes care of this tonight._ He held his hands together behind his back and waited for her to speak. She stood there; dark eyes still filled with uncertainty and started to sway to the point that Maglor thought she may faint. But she steadied herself, looked at him for a moment, and then brought one hand up to her throat while the other touched her mouth. When he just looked at her puzzled, she tapped her hand against her throat and mouth again. Suddenly the realization struck Maglor and his eyebrows rose slightly. _The wound on her neck_, he thought, _she cannot speak_. He smiled and took her hand.

"I understand. Are you having some discomfort? I will send for Hestil if you wish."

She stared at him, her eyes widening slightly before she shook her head no and pulled her hand gently from his. She looked at him again as if unsure what to do next. After another moment she began to gesture with her hand out, palm down, as if she were showing him how high something was from the ground. Her hand was low, below her waist. This time Maglor stared at her for only an instant before he knew what she was trying to ask him.

"Evon?" he asked. She nodded eagerly.

"He is well taken care of, do not worry yourself. Would you like for me to bring him?" Again she shook her head no and gave him a small smile, the concern in her eyes lessoned somewhat. She seemed to stop and think before she gestured again. This time she tried to show him how high something was from the ground except her hand was raised well above her head. Maglor looked up at her hand, which was only slightly above eye level for him, and looked back down at her at a loss. She dropped her hand down and tapped her finger to her mouth as if frustrated over what to do next. Suddenly she pointed to Maglor's eyes and hair before she raised her hand back over her head again. Maglor just stood there completely dumbfounded as she kept pointing to his eyes and then gesturing how tall whatever it was, was. She dropped her hands exasperated, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Maglor was not sure what to do. _Eyes and tall,_ he thought._ Eyes and hair and tall? My eyes and hair and tall? My eyes and hair are tall? Perhaps I should have Hestil check her head for lingering injuries as well. What could she –_suddenly Maglor realized not what, but who she may be trying to ask about.

"Maitimo?" It was not really a question to her; it was more of a thought that was spoken out loud. When he said the name she looked at him, her turn to stare dumbfounded. Maglor looked at her curiously.

"My eyes with different hair?" he asked. Her eyes widened and she nodded slightly.

"Red hair and very tall?" he asked again. This time her eyes grew very wide and she nodded yes a little more vigorously. Maglor smiled and shook his head at the bizarre turn this game had taken.

"Maedhros," he said. "He is not here." She seemed somewhat perturbed at this answer. He would have laughed out loud if not for the utter confusion he felt when it came to trying to figure out why she would be interested in Maitimo. Could she remember when he found her and Evon? It was a riddle for another time though for Maglor noticed that she had taken up their little game again. She tugged at his sleeve and held her hand just below her waist again.

"Evon," he said and she nodded yes. He took her by the hand. "I will take you to him." He stopped when he realized she resisted, pulling his arm to get his attention. He looked back at her, curiosity becoming concern when he saw the pained expression on her face. She held her hand waist high and then raised it up level with her chest. She then held up two fingers. Maglor paused for a moment and nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said, "of course. Come with me." He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm and led her to the outskirts of the encampment. They walked to an area of land where a small mound dotted with tiny white flowers lay shaded underneath the bows of a great old tree. Maglor stood back as she knelt at the foot of that tiny mound with her head in her hands. He turned away and looked to the ground, suddenly feeling like an intruder to her pain. The memory of when Maitimo mourned the loss of Findekáno came rushing back to him. Of when he found his brother sitting in the exact same position, bent over in anguish. That loss had almost been more than he could bear. Maglor had stayed with his brother for many a night after that, holding him through his grief. _Oh Maitimo, we have lost so much, _he thought._ Brothers, cousins, uncles, friends, a father. It will never end for us will it? _Maglor felt a faint touch to the back of his arm. He pulled himself from his melancholy and turned to see the large dark eyes staring up at him. He was uncertain of exactly how long he had waited, but the sun was getting low in the sky and dusk would soon be upon them. He took her hand and placed it again in the crook of his arm and with one last look back at the grave of her son, they left.

* * *

~oOo~

She sat alone on a bench in the courtyard that was off of her room. She felt better outside. From outside she could see the sun and the sky and found the familiarity comforting. She felt better today, more herself. Last night she was able to take a meal with her son and not breakdown in uncontrollable sobbing. This morning she found a bath had been prepared and fine clothes had been laid out for her. She sat now drying her hair in the sun in a dress far superior than any she had ever owned. Evon had been outfitted in clothes as well and looked to her more like a little prince than her child. He seemed very happy to be here with his new friends. Every so often he would run over to where she sat and lay his head on her lap for a brief second and then run back to their game. She watched him play with the two young elf lords in the yard. At least she thought they were young, the more she stared at them the more uncertain she became in their age. They had the same ageless quality as all elves had and yet as they played with Evon, she could see youth in their actions and words. They almost seemed to be Dannil's age. At the very thought of her eldest son's name she clenched her hands in to fists and closed her eyes. _Not now, _she thought, the tears threatening to flow again. _I will not do this now._ She took several slow deep breathes and forced her emotions in check. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw the elf lord staring at her fixedly. She smiled and waved away his concern, quickly turning her attention back to the boys in the yard. She knew he still watched her but refused to turn in his direction. She found she could not stare at the elves in this encampment for too long or else her head would begin to swim. She had never even seen elves up close before much less be a guest at the home of one. The stories she had heard of elves as a child had always frightened her. They were as old as time and would never die, and when they would look at you it was as if they could see into you and judge your very soul. They seemed to fight amongst themselves as much as they fought orcs and beware to anyone who interfered. When she had come across the elf lord in the main courtyard, she was unsure if she would even be able to approach him. When he stood up as she came over to him, she became so overwhelmed that she thought she might run away. This was a great elvin lord before her and he was tall and mighty and had a light about his person that the stories of her youth did not even come close to in their description. And when he spoke, all other sounds became an insignificant noise in the background. His hair was long and dark and his skin fair and his eyes held the light of the stars and were of a color she had never seen before. No . . . that was not true. She had seen eyes like his before. But the fire in his was different than the other. There was softness in the dark one's eyes. Not weakness or even gentleness, but a soft edge to his fire. As if it had been worn away somewhat and now was . . . well, was . . . tired. She sighed. She did not know what it was. What she did know is that the dark one did not frighten her the way the red one did. She felt like some foolish child to ever have thought he was some sort of angel sent to save her. When she awoke from yet another nightmare two nights ago to find him standing in her room she thought that she was still dreaming. She had sat up in her bed, gasping for breath and covered in sweat, her hands grasping at her throat in a silent scream when she saw him. He stood in the soft, dim glow of one of those strange lanterns that adorned the halls of this home. He stood there staring at her for what seemed an eternity. His fair, pale skin was a stark contrast to the dark red of his hair. His face was perfect angles of high cheekbones and a strong jaw line. _He is beautiful, _she had thought._ He is the most beautiful cre -, _that was about as far as she had got with that thought because in three great strides he had crossed the room and now stood over her. She heard herself give out some wheezy squeak of surprise and crawled backwards to the corner of the bed, her back against the wall. He had gone from fair to fell in three quick steps and had become one of the terrifying elves from her childhood stories. _Gods he is tall, _is all she could think as she looked at this fierce creature that loomed over her. She looked at his eyes and shrunk back from the fire that burned there. And then he spoke.

"Your son needs you. Pull yourself from this despair and tend to the living. You can dwell no more among the dead."

And then he left. She had sat up most of the night after that. Sleeping sporadically until dawn broke. The next day she had left her room and stepped out into the sun. The giant red headed monster was right though, this is where she should be. Where she needed to be. She looked down to see her son had brought her a piece of fruit that needed the skin peeled off. As she pulled her him up onto her lap and began tearing away the skin she was surprised to notice the two brothers had taken a seat upon the ground near her feet and were peeling their own share. She leaned over and tapped the one who smiles a lot on the shoulder. He looked up at her with surprise and curiosity. She pointed at him. He just looked at her. So she pointed at him again, and again, and again. He smiled at her and turned to his brother.

"Is she daft?" he asked still smiling. She felt her mouth drop open before she could stop it. The serious one gave him an exasperated look.

"She is trying to ask you your name." he said shaking his head.

"Ah yes, of course! I am Elros," he said gracing her with one of the most charming grins she had ever seen. "And this lout," he said as he kicked the other's foot, "is my brother Elrond." Elrond smiled at her while throwing a peel at his brother. "Over there is . . . wait, where did Maglor go?" She looked around the courtyard but did not see their father. She had not even noticed he left. But it was a small matter at the moment. The introductions had been reduced to a small food fight as the two brothers began to wrestle. She kissed the top of her son's head while Evon laughed and began tearing the fruit into small pieces for him to eat.

* * *

~oOo~

Maedhros forced himself to watch the woman in the courtyard despite the hollow pain it caused in his chest. She was finally interacting with her son and the world around her. That had been his intention. Just like so many others, she suffered from loss but that was no reason not to continue to live. Someone was depending on her and while she had certainly earned the right to grieve, she did not earn the right to give up. But now all he desired was for her to go away. He wanted to return to her room and go back to the dark and away from the light. She had washed herself and found properly fitting attire. Her hair was clean and portions were pulled back in small plaits around her face. He could see the rich dark tones of her hair; he could see that it was streaked with golden highlights from standing under the sun. It made her hair look as if it were braided with gold. _I have to braid my hair with gold so I am not lost in the shadow of Russandol!_ Findekáno had found that very amusing, having always envied Maidhros's hair. His laughter rang through his head and felt like a blow to his stomach, taking the air out of him. Maedhros fell back against the wall, his legs going weak; he slowly slid down and collapsed on the floor. The tunnel vision was happening again. He could not see anything, his head spun and darkness began to close in around him.

"Maitimo!" Hands gripped both sides of his face.

"Findekáno?" He searched in the darkness for the voice.

"Maitimo! Hear me!" He struggled to focus and saw a face before him. His right arm pulsed with pain. He was hanging. He could not get his hand out. He would have to cut it off. "Káno," he whispered.

"Maitimo please, it is your brother! Look at me!" Maedhros looked and forced himself to focus. Macalaurë stared down at him, face filled with concern, eyes imploring. Not Findekáno. Never again Findekáno. He was long lost. Maedhros dropped his head and began to weep. Maglor pulled his brother tightly to him and buried his face in the others hair. After a moment he let go and pulled his brother to his feet. They stood foreheads pressed together, Maglor's hands resting on his Maedhros's shoulders. "Come Maitimo" he said and led his older brother away like a child.


	6. Chapter 6

Pleeeeeaase review. I really want opinions/advice. I desperately need a Beta but am too afraid to ask. Suggestions are appreciated. Thanks much.

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

* * *

~oOo~

"Are you sure?" she asked again. Her voice was nothing more than a raspy whisper but the two elves in room could hear her just fine.

"He is fine," answered Elrond, looking up from his book in the corner. "We will find you if he should wake."

"Besides," said Elros, "he very good at waking us in the morn. Well, at least myself anyway. I am not certain that Elrond even sleeps anymore." If Elrond was at all bothered by his sibling's comments he showed nothing. He simply turned the page of the book he was reading. She bent down and kissed the sleeping child's head and pulled the covers up around him some more. He was used to sleeping in the same room with the other boys now and did seem happy here. Besides, she never slept that well anyway and when he did stay with her she only kept disturbing him with her constant restlessness. She looked at the other two boys in the room. One at the table reading and the other sprawled across his bed, hands behind his head and eyes closed. She smiled, he would be fine here. They looked after him as if he was one of their own and she was not sure she could be anymore grateful for that. As she turned to leave, Elrond called out to her.

"Saeran, if you would like, tomorrow I could continue to tell you about the music of the Ainur?" Two grey eyes peeked at her from behind the book they had been reading. From his bed across the room, Elros groaned and rolled over pulling a pillow over his head. She smiled and nodded yes. Nothing pleased Elrond more than discussing history, and nothing drove Elros out of his mind more than to listen to Elrond discuss history. Elrond smiled back and returned to his book, though not before he threw an imperious look at his brother. "Good night," she whispered.

"Good night Saeran" they called back almost in unison if not for Elros sounding muffled from under his pillow.

She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. More than likely they would not sleep. Much like the elves of this manor they did not need sleep the way the men of the encampment did. Sometimes they would sleep, eyes closed and on a bed much like Elros was when she left. And other times they would rest with eyes open, staring off at who knows where. She found that disturbing. She was not even sure the lords of the keep slept at all. She had not seen them for several days. According to Elrond and Elros it was common for them to be gone for weeks at a time on patrols, although they did say it was rare for both of them to go at the same time. Usually one always remained behind at the keep while the other was out. But this time Maglor had joined his brother. Not that she particularly minded. She found the lord Maglor pleasant enough. He would greet her in the halls and invite her to dine with them and would sometimes join her in small walks around the keep. The lord Maedhros on the other hand she hardly ever saw and when she did it was the back of his cloak as he walked away. She often wondered what he would do if she ran and stood in front of him, forcing him to greet her. _Most likely step on me, _she thought with a smile._ Best not to try it._

She came to the great hall and took a seat on one of the long cushioned benches that sat in front of the main fire pit in the center. It was the largest room in the keep and the only one with any kind of decor. Large tapestries adorned the walls with images of battles and elves and three great stars seemed to be on all of them. Those strange lanterns lined the walls casting off hardly any light at the moment as they were dimed somehow in the evenings. The hall was pretty much empty except for the occasional servant who would walk through on some last minute errand before retiring for the night. She saw the elf named Goweston who was in charge of the daily needs for the keep when both lords were away. He walked quickly past her with a nod of his head while talking to two other servants in the strange foreign tongue that the elves here spoke in. _Good night to you as well,_ she thought tartly. This was who she ended up talking to when she went look for something to do during the day when she could not take sitting idle any longer. She was recovering from her physical wounds well enough but mentally she needed a task to keep her mind from things. Elrond and Elros had started giving Evon lessons during the afternoon to assist with their own tutelage, and while he was with them she desperately needed something to do. Unfortunately, the steward was not much help and did not hide his annoyance at having to take time to assist her. When she had asked to see if she could help in the kitchens, Goweston was all too happy for her to go just as long as she left. When she finally got to the kitchens she found it was manned with three elves, all male, and all three stopped what they were doing to look at her. She stood in the doorway for a few moments staring at them and them staring right back at her. Once she felt that she could not feel any more awkward, she turned and left. She pretended that the soft chuckling she heard from the room behind her was her imagination. After that, she went to the only other place she knew of, the healing house. It was a cozy little building just outside of the keep with the head healers dwelling attached to the side. She found that Hestil was more than happy to accept her help. Saeran liked Hestil very much. While she was an elf and has that other worldly quality about that all of her people have, she was also very warm and open to everyone she saw. Saeran felt comfortable around her right away. She did not mind at all taking care of the menial tasks so Hestil could concentrate on other pressing matters. Hestil also had two young ladies who would come in to assist her as well and Saeran was pleased to see they were not elves. There was only so much ethereal beauty one could take. Not that Kady and Janneth were plain, but they were young and could be silly. Their constant chatter and tendency to gossip helped to keep her from acknowledging her pain and they informed her of things she would not have known otherwise. Like how the lord Maglor was not the twins father. They had been shocked when they found out she did not know.

"Oh no Miss, he's not the boy's father!" Janneth had said with a shocked laugh.

"Certainly not," agreed Kady. "They're orphans."

"Sad story that," said Janneth.

"Tragic." Kady had added.

"Mmmm," agreed Janneth.

Saeran had just stood there staring at the two, completely lost. Again, they stared in shock.

"You don't know?" exclaimed Kady. "They are the ones who orphaned boys!"

"These are the sons of _Feanor_!" whispered Janneth, hissing out the name Feanor. They were really getting into it now. Stopping what they were doing, eyes wide and leaning in for emphasis. "The lord Maedhros should be king of his kind but for all his great sins."

"Not right in the head that one –"

" – not since he was captured –"

" – and tortured –"

" - called kinslayers by their own kind –"

"That will be enough." Hestil stood in the doorway of the house, the warm and inviting demeanor she had shown earlier gone. She stared cooly at the two girls who had turned bright red before her. "You may go now. I will not need any more assistance for the day." Kady and Janneth could not drop their things quick enough and head for the door. Saeran could not help but feel terrible and wanted to apologize but Hestil stopped her by handing her a vial.

"This is for your throat. Should help you regain some of your voice. I have mixed it with some honey to help the taste. When you come tomorrow we will see if it helps." With that she was done and left the room. Saeran stood there for a few seconds feeling even worse and thinking that maybe she should have just stayed in the kitchens. When she had returned the next day, Hestil was back to her cheery and chatty self but Saeran noticed that Kady and Janneth were absent. But as the days went by, Saeran felt Hestil start to become more and more comfortable and they began to take a short time at the end of the day to chat. It was during one of these moments that Hestil finally spoke of what Saeran had heard.

"If you have any questions about the lords of Amon Ereb, ask me. I would not have you hear the idle one-sided gossip that some atani are wont to do." Saeran looked at Hestil. She was a handsome woman with long dark hair tied into a knot at the nape of her neck. She was tall like all of her kind but much broader in the shoulders than many of their women were. Although there were no lines to her face, Saeran felt that she was much older than many of the elves here. She thought she saw what some would consider fine grey streaks in her hair. Saeran smiled at her.

"What would you tell me?" she asked in a raspy whisper. Hestil smiled back.

And that was how she found out much information on the two lords who had saved her and her child's life and taken them in. Hestil was very forthcoming with what she knew. The first talk they had she told Saeran how she had come with the brother's and their father with her own family across the sea. She told Saeran about the terrible oath and the Doom of Mandos from which they all suffered. But none more so that the sons of Feanor. The next time they sat down Hestil had told her of their deeds both noble and fell and the tragic deaths that followed the descendants of Finwë. Hestil also told her of Doriath and Sirion and how they had lost five of the seven brothers at these battles, two of whom used to be the former masters of this keep. This evening before Saeran left for the main keep Hestil had told her of her own loss. Her husband had been lost at a battle called Dagor Bragollach and her two sons at Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Her daughter still lived though she had left after the battle at the Havens to follow Gil-Galad's people. The burden of the brother's oath had become too much for her. Hestil had stopped there, not wanting to frighten Saeran.

Saeran sighed to herself thinking about that. She propped up some pillows and leaned back on the bench soaking in the warmth from the fire, her eyes becoming heavy. There was much blood in the brother's past. She wondered if this is where she and her son should be, not that they had anywhere else to go. They did save her life and cared for her son when she was unable. They even saw that Dannil received a proper burial. Her sweet, sweet Dannil. She squeezed her eyes and fought back the tears. She rolled on to her side and pulled her knees up to her stomach and looked at the tapestries. She liked coming to the hall when it was empty. Sometimes, when alone in her room, she felt as if the walls were closing in on her when she shut her eyes so she began to come here when she could not walk outside because of the cold. In here, the walls were too far away, the ceiling so far up you could not see it in the dark. The doors were huge and the locks heavy and the fierce elves on the tapestries were forever fighting off the monsters in the night, making it safe. One night she would be able to sleep in her room, just not tonight.

When she woke it was too her son climbing under the blanket that was spread out over her, his cold feet invading the warmth of the cocoon she was wrapped in.

"I thought you would be here," said Elros smiling. "What did I tell you? Evon excels at waking you with the sunrise!" Elros lowered himself to the ground with a grace that made Saeran jealous. She sat up and placed Evon on her lap and took a piece of the warm bread that Elros held out to her. _Sunrise, eh?_ _I must have slept through the night. _She handed some bread to her son and smiled._ That is a good sign._ She looked at Elros.

"Did you sleep at all?" she whispered. She wished he had brought something to drink with him.

"As much as could be expected I suppose," Elros answered while chewing a mouthful of bread.

"Your brother?" she asked.

"Him? He never sleeps." She shook her head

"No, where is your brother," she said.

"Oh," said Eros, "he is with Maglor." She sat up, eyes wide. "They returned sometime in the night. I am sure they will all be along any moment now." She almost jumped out of her skin at that. _Be along any time now, _she thought startled._ And me sleeping in front of a fire in a main hall like some scullery maid, and in the same clothes I wore yesterday no less. _She would have to get up and get changed and get Evon dressed immediately. She moved Evon from her lap and went to wrap the blanket around her when she froze. She suddenly remembered that when she had come in to the hall she had no blanket on her person. Someone had laid this over her in the night while she slept. And it was no blanket. It was a cloak. A great red cloak with a large silver star with eight rays coming from it embroidered on the back. Saeran knew this cloak well because she had seen it many times in the halls of the keep, walking swiftly away from her. She noticed Elros looking at her curiously and quickly composed herself. She slung the cloak over one arm and scooped Evon up with the other.

"Go see to your breakfast," she told Elros, "I must get Evon and I dressed. Will you still be taking him riding at the same time?" Elros continued to stare at her with those strange elvin eyes, saying nothing. Frustration began to tickle the back of her head. She gave Elros a sharp kick to the leg.

"Well?" she rasped at him. That seemed to snap him out of his thoughts because he jumped up and looked at her with mock indignation.

"Yes my lady." He raised his hand up as if cowering from another potential blow. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Good. Now go. You are making my throat hurt." She did not mean that but she was in a hurry to leave and she hated it when the twins looked at her like they knew too much. Elros simply flashed her one of his most winning smiles and loped off. _Better hide your daughters from that one_, she thought and then turned and left for her room.

* * *

~oOo~

_The small party of riders entered the keep late into the night. They were a small group and all Noldo. Maedhros had wanted to move quickly so they had taken the bare minimum. They had ridden along the Andram searching for a straight sight line to the coast. They did not dare to go any closer nor did they need to for keen are the eyes of the elves and could easily see the coast from the long wall. A great host of white swan boats were led by the light of the silmaril in the sky. The banner of Eönwë led the procession followed by the banners of Finarfin and Ingwion. Thorondor, captain of the great birds of heaven led his host in the skies. And for just a little while the hope the party of riders felt upon seeing the might of the valar quelled their feelings of despair. Now they returned to Amon Ereb unassaulted, for the Enemy had called his forces to him to prepare for war. They rode back in silence and entered the keep just as quietly, no horns to announce their return tonight. Without words the elves stabled their horses and silently left for their quarters. The brothers entered the keep through the main hall from a small entrance on the side. They walked in to find Elrond standing next to the fire that was almost out and a small figure sleeping on the bench behind him. They walked over to him, Maglor going straight over to Elrond while Maedhros went past him to stir the fire._

"_Did you see them," Elrond asked. Maglor looked past the peredhil to his brother who was staring at the figure on the bench. _

"_Yes," said Maglor, "they have arrived." Elrond simply nodded._

"_I would like to know –"_

"_That," said Maedhros interrupting the boy "is not your brother."_

_Elrond turned and looked at the bench. "No," he said, "that is Saeran." _

_Maedhros kept stoking the fire, never looking up. "Saeran?" he asked._

"_Yes, that is her name." answered the boy._

"_How did you find out her name," said Maglor, looking now at the sleeping figure._

"_Well, it was not that hard really. I just asked." Elrond was growing impatient now. This is not what he wished to talk about. Maedhros stood up, eyes never leaving the fire._

"_She is speaking now," said Maglor almost to himself._

"_You have been gone for some time. It is only natural progress would have been made." Elrond sounded as if he were talking to school children who could not understand the simplest of instructions. "But what of –"_

"_Go on to your room. Now is not the time." Elrond froze and looked at Maedhros. Maglor could see the peredhil bristling where he stood._

"_We have been riding for some time Elrond," he said, trying to diffuse the situation. "Let us wash up and then I will tell you all you want to know." Elrond stood defiantly still for a brief moment, and then turned and left for his room. Maglor sighed and looked at his brother. He could tell just by the way Maedhros was standing that he was not going to speak. As he left the main hall he paused to look back at his brother who stood next to the sleeping figure in the fire light. "Please get some rest Maitimo," he whispered softly, knowing his brother would hear, then turned and left._

_Maedhros waited till Maglor was gone before he turned and looked at the sleeping figure before him. She had curled herself up into a little ball, using her skirts to cover her feet. He reached up to his shoulder and took his cloak off and laid it over the sleeping woman. Kneeling down as he pulled the cloak up to her shoulders, he paused to move some of her hair from her face. He could see the gold highlights glinting in the firelight and felt the familiar hollow, emptiness in his chest. He ran is fingers lightly through her hair once more and lowered his head next to hers, breathing in a faint scent of lavender from her hair. He was so weary, so worn. He gently wound her hair around his fingers. He longed so badly to lie down next to this woman and simply feel another's warmth against his skin that he thought he may weep. But then the fire popped, and his head snapped up, pulling him from his reverie. He was being a fool. He felt this way why, because she reminded him of someone else? Of someone who was dead. Of someone he could not save. There is to be no peace for him. There will be no rest. He stood up and looked away from the sleeping woman. Disgusted with himself, he strode off out of the room. Several moments went by before Elrond stepped out from where he hid in the shadows, wiping away the tears that ran down his face._


	7. Chapter 7

While I have always known where I wanted this story to go, I have found myself at a bit of a conundrum. After years of killing, and we are talking hundreds of years of killing and death and loss and sorrow and almost every other form of suckage, I have to ask could Maedhros every really be happy? Could he even allow himself to be happy? Would he feel that he even deserved to be happy? I think that these are questions that you have to ask in order to be true to the characters. How do you balance this without making it ridiculous? That is kind of where this chapter came from. I hope you enjoy it.**  
**

As usual, I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

* * *

**~oOo~**

Saeran smiled at the scene before her. The small group sat in the center of the main hall. Maglor was strumming on a lute while Evon laughed and spun around in front of him. Elrond was leaning forward where he sat on one of the benches, elbows resting on his knees and Elros sat at his feet with his back against the bench, one leg stretched out while the other leg was propped up with his arm resting on his knee. She and her son had been here for two years now. It was hard for her at times to wrap her mind around that. Two years. And now Evon was turning four. She almost laughed out loud when the twins had found out. They were discussing what they were to do on their begetting day and she had asked what it meant. They had looked at her in surprise.

"You do not know of your begetting day?" Elrond had asked, his eyebrows rose slightly.

She had looked at them in confusion. "Well, I might, if you would just tell me what it is."

"It is the moment you come into being through both the will and love of Eru and the act of bodily union," said Elros matter-of-factly. It was Saeran's turn to raise her eyebrows, but a bit more than slightly.

"Ooh," she answered, looking away, eyes wide.

"When is Evon's?"

"Evon's what."

"Begetting day?"

"Ah, his . . . oh, um . . . well he, yes. . . I guess um . . . I mean I got, get . . . he . . .," the twins were just staring at her, their expressions seemed carefully neutral. "He will be another year older with the coming of the next warm season," she blurted out. "I am sorry but I am afraid we do not recognize that day the way you do." Now the twins stared at her in all out shock.

"But we are at the height of the warm season!" exclaimed Elros. "His day has already passed!" Elrond shook his head.

"You really must inform us of these things Saeran," said Elrond, his disappointment obvious in the tone of his voice. "Eldar or no, it is a day that should be marked. Are you even aware of yours?"

"That," she told him levelly, "is not your concern." Elros had laughed heartily at that.

And so, when the last of winter's chill had left the air the twins informed Saeran that they had talked to Maglor and that Evon's begetting day would be celebrated in a fortnight. Which is why they were here now, having a dinner of sweet cakes and a mulled honey wine. Maglor had even come down from his nightly vigil. He and Maedhros would go to the highest point in Amon Ereb to keep tabs on the war that raged at the Sirion. Patrols were less now that the Enemy's forces were focused on the great host of the Valar and the brother's began to take more time at the keep. Both brothers were taking on much more of an interest in the twin's studies. But Saeran could not help but feel that there was an underlying sense of urgency with their lessons. Almost as if they felt some sort of pressure to pass on all that they knew and more. Still, they were kind to Evon and allowed him to accompany them on several outings. Even Maedhros. Once she had walked up on the twin's combat practice to see her son sitting on top of the great elf lord's shoulders as he called out forms to them. When Maedhros saw her across the clearing standing with eyes wide and mouth agape he simply reached up with one arm and quickly and carefully swept Evon down to the ground and scooted him along. He then turned his back to her and continued to call out forms to the twins. She had walked all the way back to the keep before she realized her mouth was still hanging open. She had hoped that after finding his cloak over her while she had slept in the hall that she could finally talk to him, show her gratitude for all he had done for her and sons. At least thank him for the cloak. But nothing changed. If anything he seemed to avoid her even more, becoming even scarcer. She sighed. There was nothing to be done. Right now though, they were celebrating the life of her son, and that was more than enough for her. Elrond and Elros started clapping as Maglor finished and set down the lute. Evon had spun himself around till he dropped down on his bottom, head wobbling as he tried to focus. Maglor smiled as he put a hand out to steady him. Suddenly, a low vibration could be felt coming from the floor and the hanging lamps above them began to sway slightly. Elros jumped up from where he sat and Maglor picked up Evon and raised a hand to the twins telling them to be still. And then, the vibration was gone and the lights above them slowly swayed to a stop. A few of the house servants came running into the main hall and Maglor turned to address them.

"Calm yourselves. It is done. Go back to your quarters," he turned to Thannor who had just entered the hall, "go to the stables and make sure all is well. This was a small one, no harm should be done." Thannor left for the stables and Maglor turned back to them. "Perhaps we should call it a night?" But Evon was not having it.

"Nooooooo! Enta," he said looking pleadingly at Maglor, placing his little hands on both sides of the elf's face, "máriello." Elrond and Elros looked at each other beaming with pride and Maglor laughed out loud.

"By the light, he uses my own tongue against me! Your tutors have taught you too well. How can I say no?" Maglor set him down but Evon was not done quite yet. He looked up at Maglor.

"You will sing too?"

Elrond and Elros looked to Maglor now, smiles gone from their faces. Saeran called out her son's name, upset at his poor manners rather than out of knowledge of the silent boundary that had just been crossed. She called her son over to her but Maglor simply shook his head and knelt down in front of the child.

"No, no, he is right. This is his day and I have yet to give him a gift." Saeran had started to feel nervous when she noticed how still Elrond and Elros were, but Maglor looked at Evon playfully, a little smile pulling at his lips. He kissed Evon on the top of his head, stood up and went back to his chair, picked up the harp and sat down. Saeran picked up Evon and sat down settling him on her lap. She could not help but feel a little excited. Hestil had told her about Maglor's talent, calling him the greatest bard who ever lived. She had heard him play the harp but had yet to hear him sing. The twins had taken their seats again, their full attention on Maglor. Maglor seemed to consider the harp for a moment before starting, and then he strummed some chords and the hall danced with music. Saeran smiled and closed her eyes, letting the sound move around her. It lulled her and she found herself swaying slightly from side to side as Evon leaned back against her chest. And then Maglor began to sing. Saeran froze, completely still, eyes going wide and unable to move. His voice was unlike any she had ever heard before. If she had thought that his playing was magic, then his singing was otherworldly. And he sang in the strange language of his people which only intensified the dreamlike state of the room. The lights around them seemed to dim in response to his voice, as if they did not want to create distractions from his song. Something touched her face and when she reached up she found her cheek was wet from tears she did not know she had shed. She looked around the room in amazement. Elrond sat straight up but his eyes were closed and his head slightly down like he was in prayer while Elros sat on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest and his arms around his legs, smiling. She looked around the room and saw that several of the servants had gathered in the back, some openly weeping. But it was at the front of the great hall, to the side of the main entrance where her vision locked. Thannor had returned from the stables but was not alone. Standing next to him, leaning against the wall of the alcove that went to the side entrance was Maedhros. He stood there watching Maglor, his arms folded across his chest, head tilted slightly, smiling softly. She was stunned. She had never seen him smile before. His entire person seemed lighter, younger to her. His hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck but loose strands fell about his face, adding to the youthful, relaxed air around him. Gone was the tightness that he carried around his eyes and mouth. The curve of his smile made his lips look full and soft and the lines around his eye seemed to disappear, easing away the harsh angles of his cheekbones that made him look so grim. She imagined this is what he looked like before the evils of this world took hold, a time when he was happy and whole. It was in this moment that she could see the great prince that he was, and the king that he should have been. It was also in this moment that she realized he was staring at her. She gave a little start of surprise and looked away quickly, her face growing warm. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and saw that he was still staring at her. The warmth she felt in her face shot up ten degrees. She pretended to adjust Evon in her lap and dared one more glance. Still staring. Her face was on fire now. She gave up all pretext of subtlety and turned her back to him, placing all of her attention back to Maglor who was just finishing his song. She listened as the last note hung in the air almost as if the room itself did not want to release it, and then there was silence. Maglor set the harp down, stood up and walked over to where Saeran sat with Evon on her lap. He knelt down and placed his hand on the drowsy child's head.

"Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya," he said then backed away. Elrond walked from behind Maglor and placed his hand on Evon's head next.

"Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya," Elrond then stepped aside and Saeran looked over expecting to see Elros but saw Maedhros instead. He knelt down and placed his hand on Evon's head. She could not remember him being this close to her since that night he scared the wits out of her in her room. He leaned forward towards Evan, his head now inches from her own. She was sure that he could hear her heart pounding.

"Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya," he whispered and pulled back, his eyes meeting hers only for the briefest of seconds as he stood up and walked away. It was not till Elros came up next before her that she realized that she was holding her breath. Elros placed his hand on Evon's head.

"Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya," Elros grinned as he spoke; his eyes alight with mirth as he offered her his hand. "Shall I escort you to your chambers my lady?"

"Rogue" she said as she stood. He laughed and easily took a sleeping Evon from her arms. He and his brother were not quite yet fifteen and they already stood a head taller than her.

"Allow me to take the little lord to his room Saeran. It is no bother."

She smiled and nodded to Elros and said goodnight to Elrond. After they left she turned to Maglor. He had returned to his seat in front of the fire. His legs were crossed and he reclined back, causing him to sink down somewhat in the seat. His chin was propped up in his right hand while his left dangled over the other side of the chair. The aura about him was relaxed and the fire cast a peculiar light in his eyes as he stared at it. She hesitated.

"Yes Saeran?"

"Forgive me . . . . I only wished to thank you," she said, "for the song."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Evons reminds me that perhaps there is still some good I can do in this world," he gave a little laugh as he said that and looked up at Saeran, "truly, it was my pleasure." She said nothing, only nodded and tugged at the ties on the over skirt of her gown. He studied her for a moment, strange eyes considering her in the firelight.

"Is there something else?" he asked.

"I was just thinking that . . . you and the young lords have been so kind but . . . I can't, I don't want to be a burden and . . . well, perhaps it is time that we see to our own dwelling." She did not look up after she was done speaking, only continued to pull distractedly at her the ties. Maglor slowly straightened up, brows furrowed slightly in concern.

"Are you unhappy here?"

"No, no, of course not."

"Has something happened to make you feel this way?"

"No." Maglor noticed her hesitation.

"I am a grown woman. I can't continue to depend on the charity of others," she paused for a second, "that said, I would not want to go far, some place near Dannil maybe."

"You must do what you feel is right of course," he stood up and walked over to her, taking her hand in his. "You will always be welcome here . . . by all of us . . .you do know this yes?" Saeron said nothing, only stared at the floor.

"By all of us," he said again, emphasizing each word. She looked at him now, her eyes becoming blurry with the threat of tears. She pulled her hand from his and wrapped him in a quick embrace then left the hall.

Maglor watched Saeran leave, still somewhat surprised at what transpired. It occurred to him that he knew very little about the atani woman. He sighed and shook his head, the second born were a mystery to him. Their time on this earth so short and fleeting that they lived either too recklessly or hidden away in fear. They wrapped themselves up in their passions so much that they would all too easily lose sight of right and wrong, driven by need. He turned to go back to his seat by the fire and stopped. Maedhros lounged languidly in his chair; his long legs were stretched out almost to the fire, his head resting in his left hand, one long finger running along the side of his face to his temple. He looked quite comfortable. Maglor narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips slightly at his brother and pulled another seat over near the fire, knocking the other's feet as he did so. If this bothered Maedhros he showed nothing, he simply looked at Maglor.

"This one was already warm," he said placidly. Maglor sniffed.

"I suppose you heard my earlier conversation?"

"I did."

"We will need to see to her wishes."

"No. Not yet."

Maglor raised a questioning eyebrow at his brother.

"There is a war raging up and down the Sirion, and while we are a decent distance away the battles are shaking the foundation of the land all the way to the Blue Mountains. Not to mention deserters of the Enemies forces that crawl through here from time to time. It is not safe. She will have to wait." His tone brokered no argument and his logic was sound. _Very sound, _thought Maglor.

"She may not be too pleased hear this."

"She will learn to live with it."

Maglor studied his brother before he spoke. "Maitimo, why does this woman trouble you so?"

Maedhros said nothing at first. He simply rubbed at his temples and ran his hand down his face ending with his chin resting back in his hand and sighed.

"I do not know Macalaurë," he whispered sadly, shaking his head. "I do not know."

They sat in silence for some time, nothing but the occasional crack from the fire to disturb their peace.

"I have missed your singing. I am almost certain it was your voice that calmed the stables." Maglor let out a small laugh.

"And the hogs? Where they charmed as well?"

Maedhros smiled. "I did not get that far among the livestock. That song sounded familiar, you had performed it before yes?"

"I . . . am not sure . . . perhaps," said Maglor thinking back, "with Nolofinwë?"

Maedhros thought for a moment, "The feast?"

"Yes, that was it," Maglor nodded, the memory coming to him now. "Do you not remember? Even Artanis enjoyed the song. She was always so happy to see us." Maedhros threw his head back and barked out a laugh.

"Even more so when her uncle moved her and her brother's so we could be seated."

"She has changed her name you know," said Maglor. "In "shame" of the actions of certain Noldor, she goes by the Sindarin name Galadriel now, from Celeborn's people."

Maedhros scoffed at this and waved his hand in a disdainful manner. "Do not speak to me of little Nerwen. She has always been a vain, prideful girl. She refutes us not because of our actions but because we know why she truly came here in the first place. Her reasons are not as noble as she has led her people believe." Maglor looked back to the fire, memories continued dance around in his mind.

"That was the last time for that song, but not the last time you sang," said Maedhros, his attention on Maglor.

"No?" Maglor's brows came together in thought as he tried to recollect the last time he had taken up his voice in song.

"Moryo."

"Moryo? Ah yes! Carnistir's binding ceremony to . . . what was her name –" consternation furrowed Maglor's brow.

" – Iphandis -"

" – yes! Iphandis, I remember now. Where has she gone to?"

"Gil-Galad's people."

"Mmmm," replied Maglor lost in the memory. "Not the most pleasant union."

"It was not her fault," said Maedhros, leaning over to stoke the fire back to life. "Moryo loved another." This took Maglor by surprise.

"How do you know this?"

Maedhros shrugged. "You had but to look in his eyes to tell, although I could hear it in his voice as well. He had bound himself to her." Now Maglor looked at Maedhros in all out shock.

"That is impossible," he said looking at Maedhros incredulously. "He could not have wed Iphandis otherwise!"

Maedhros smiled and gave his brother a sideways glance as he continued to stir the fire. "He could and he did. She had long passed when he wed Iphandis. She was of the second born." Maglor's mouth dropped open at that, his eyes wide. He fell against the back of his chair and looked at Maedhros in disbelief.

"Second born?! Carnistir? I . . . but . . . how? When?!"

Maedhros leaned back in his chair, a wide smile across his face now as he enjoyed his brother's reaction. "It was some time ago. Around the time he saved that little tribe of atani somewhere in east Thargelion. Did you never notice how he began spending more and more time near the mountains?" Maglor sat there with is mouth hanging open.

"Huh," he replied, still shaking his head. "He never said anything."

"Moryo had always been somewhat of a loner. Never one to share. No doubt he did not feel it was our business," said Maedhros. "And he was most likely afraid."

"Afraid? Of what?"

"Of what our reactions would be." Maedhros stared intently at his brother from his seat across the fire. "What would your reaction have been Macalaurë?" Amusement was gone from his expression now. Maglor still stared into the fire in disbelief, shaking his head at the question before him.

"I . . . I do not know. I mean, I most certainly would have counseled against it. This type of union does not seem to end well. Just look at Aikanáro," Maglor paused for a moment in thought, "but I suppose if it made him happy . . ."

"Happy." Maedhros spit out the word. "Do we even deserve to be happy? We who have been denied all opportunities at happiness."

Maglor sighed. "I cannot say Maitimo. I know, thanks to the peredhil, I have felt joy but I cannot remember the last time I was happy." Maglor looked up at Maedhros. "Was Carnistir happy," he asked.

Maedhros looked forlornly back at Maglor.

"Yes," he said sadly. "Yes he was."

* * *

Fingolfin - Nolofinwë

Aegnor - Aikanáro

Caranthir - Moryo – Carnistir

Galadriel – Atranis – Nerwen

Maglor – Macalaurë

Maedhros - Maitimo

Enta máriello - Quenya for "one more please"

Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya - Quenya for "May the Vala protect you on your path under the sky"


	8. Chapter 8

Ok, had to up the rating just to be safe, but I don't think it is too raunchy. Please let me know if it was over the top. I am trying to get this story wrapped up as I will be starting clinicals in a month and won't have any time. To those who have been kind enough to give me a review or send me a pm, thank you thank you thank you. Your words are greatly greatly appreciated!

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien

* * *

~oOo~

She sat under the large old tree that shaded the area where Dannil lay. She enjoyed coming here on the days Hestil did not need her. Evon was happily enjoying his riding time with Elros and she would take these moments to remember her eldest son. The days were getting warmer and more pleasant and the tremors brought on by the battles to the west seemed to be lessoning of late. She chose to spend her time here rather than in the keep. She was still bitter about Maedhros's decree on anyone leaving. Any hope for her own space put on hold indefinitely. Perhaps that is also why she came out here so often, her own little attempt to rebel for he had also sent out the order for no one to stray further than the main encampment. It was bad enough that he would not allow her to move out of the keep but to keep her from going to visit the grave of her son was unacceptable. If he had a problem with her actions he could come and tell her himself. Something she did not see happening since he avoided any sort of contact with her as if she were riddled with the plague. She had thought about turning it into a sort of sport, trying to see just how close she could get before he would leave her presence. She decided against it, likening it to poking a sleeping bear. She sighed and leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree and continued to weave the small white flowers together into a small wreath, a little trick from her childhood. She had thought about joining the many refugees that came through on their way to dwarven road that cut through the mountains. While the elven travelers tended to avoid Amon Ereb, their mortal counterparts were more than fine with stopping to rest or receive aid and pass on information. The high-king Gil-Galad had been slowly sending many of his people on this path with the intent to relocate to Ered Luin. The battles that raged along the river Sirion were ravaging West Beleriand, including the Bay of Balar. They spoke of terrible things. Demons that came up from the ground and dragons that terrorized the skies, leaving devastating fires in their wake. But they also told of great acts of heroics of the Valar and the forces of Aman. Of Thorondor and Eönwë, and the two great kings Finarfin captain of the Noldor and Ingwion, captain of the Vanyar. They also spoke of great deeds performed by Eärendil, in his great ship Vingilótë and the great star that shined bright upon his brow. These stories always seemed to upset Elros. It was the only time she could ever recollect him looking angry. Any and all traces of his ever present smile gone; he would simply get up and leave the room at even the mention of the name. When Saeran asked Elrond who was Eärendil, the young elf answered her in a detached manor.

"Our father," was all he said. Saeran never asked again.

She looked up at the sky and sighed again. Everyone has something they do not wish to confront she supposed. She picked herself up from the ground and walked over to the small mound and laid the tiny wreath she had made on top of it. Looking up at the sky, she reached her arms above her to stretch some and made the decision to head back when her legs began to vibrate. Confused, she looked down at her feet thinking that perhaps her legs were asleep when she noticed that the low sweeping branches of the tree had begun to sway and smaller twigs and branches began to fall. _Another tremor, _she thought and moved to get away from the tree as larger debris began to come down. But when she let go of the trunk she found that her footing became even more unstable as roots began to protrude from the ground underneath her. She dropped down to all fours in an attempt to crawl away, the vibrations from the earth reverberating through her limbs. A loud cracking noise came from above her and she felt panic take over as she pushed herself away from the tree as hard as she could, propelling herself forward. She heard the branch land somewhere behind her but did not look back, concentrating only on moving forward and away. The ground lurched under her feet again sending her rolling into what she thought was a rock or boulder, but when the rock/boulder grabbed her by the arm, yanking her up and pulling her against it, she knew otherwise. The earth rattled for several more seconds before coming to a slow stop. Saeran did not move. She knew they were kneeling and that she clung desperately to whoever held her. She noticed that they did not relax their grip on her either. She turned her head and saw the deep red of a cloak and the small gold embroidery along the collar of the grey riding mantel they wore. Her heart began to pound so hard she could hear her pulse in her ears. A hand clasped her chin and pulled her face upwards. Her eyes slowly went up catching sight of the dark red hair first and then continued to run up the faint scar lines on his neck and up along his face to his eyes. He studied her intently at first, looking for sign of injury but then he blinked as if realizing something and his eyes took on a strange look. She suddenly became acutely aware of how her body was pressed against his, but made no effort to move, and he made no effort to release her. He moved his hand from her chin and hesitated for a moment before touching the side of her neck and then running his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head. Her eyes never left his and she feared she would burn from the fire inside them. His face was just inches from her now, their lips barely touching, his eyes were locked on hers, refusing to let go. That was when she saw it, beneath the thousands of stars and fire of the Eldar, she saw the fear in his eyes, he was afraid. Before she realized what she was doing, her arm moved up around his neck and she arched her back, pressing harder against him and closed the distance. Their lips touched and she felt herself melt into him. And the kiss, which started out so soft and hesitant at first, became stronger and filled with need. When they finally and reluctantly broke apart they both gasped for breath, foreheads pressed together, lips just barely touching. She kept her eyes closed, frightened of what she may do if she were to look at his again but her arms remained wrapped around his neck and he pressed her to him even tighter. As she held onto him panting, she attempted to gather her wits about her. She heard what she thought was a horse nearby and for a brief moment became startled, thinking that they had been discovered.

"It is only Ectheldoth," whispered Maedhros, his forehead still pressed to hers as his lips brushed lightly against her own. She shuddered when his mouth touched hers as he spoke and she struggled for a coherent thought. _Ectheldoth, Maedhros's horse, he was riding; there was a quake, who was riding? Elros was riding, riding with Evon, wait, there was a quake and Evon was riding! _ She gasped loudly and pushed herself back, eyes wide. It was now Maedhros's turn to be startled.

"Evon!" she cried, the realization hitting her that her son was somewhere out there. She jumped up and frantically looked around desperately trying to figure out which way the keep was after becoming disoriented. Suddenly she felt herself being lifted up and placed on the back of horse as Maedhros leapt up gracefully behind her. She grabbed him tight around the waist as he spurred Ectheldoth towards the keep.

* * *

~oOo~

Elrond stood in front of the keep, assisting with the removal of the remaining debris. Maglor was returning from riding through the encampment, assessing any damage that had been done. This was the largest tremor so far and Elrond had told several of the servants to be prepared for aftershocks. He hoped they would be minor. Maedhros rode up to the keep at the same time Maglor did, Saeran riding with him. Elrond watched as she leapt off the horse before Maedhros could even come to a complete stop and ran to Maglor frantic. Maglor shook his head and pointed over at Elrond, she immediately ran over to him. Her eyes panicked as he caught her by the shoulders to keep her from knocking him down.

"Evon?" she said desperately. Before he could speak someone called out from behind them.

"Mama!" Evon came running around the corner from the direction of the stables with Elros and Thannor following behind him. Saeran spun around and ran to her son dropping to her knees to grab and hold him to her. He squirmed in her grip to try and talk to her.

"Mama," his voiced muffled as he spoke into her shoulder, "mama! The ground moved! I felt it move! And there were monsters!"

"Shhh, yes, yes, I know, it's all right." Saeran stood up and rocked Evon back and forth although Elrond felt the reassurance was more for her than for the child.

Elrond looked at Elros whose face was grim as he stared after Maedhros and Maglor. Thannor had walked swiftly over to them and they spoke in Quenya. The language flew between them low and quick and when they finished the three spurred into action. Thannor went quickly to the soldiers quarters while Maedhros barked orders to several of the servants sending them scurrying. Maglor walked rapidly over to where Elrond stood.

"Elrond, you and your brother must look after the keep in my absence. I have already spoke to Goweston and he knows to come to you. See also that Hestil has everything see needs."

Elrond looked behind Maglor and saw his horse Aldoron was being outfitted with short spears and that Maedhros and Maglor's armor was being brought out. Maedhros never dismounted, he simply strapped his sword onto his saddle next to his armor to be put on at a later time. Men and elves were mounting up, weapons being made at the ready and supplies loaded. Elrond looked back to Maglor.

"I want to come with you."

Maglor stared at Elrond, his gaze intense and considering. "No," he said finally. Elrond flinched slightly but said nothing.

"Not yet," Maglor added, his hand resting on Elrond's shoulder. "Not yet."

Maglor turned and took his sword from the servant that stood a pace behind him and mounted his Aldoron. Maedhros turned Ectheldoth to meet him as Thannor rode up as well. The three held their counsel over Thannor's map as the rest of the party of riders began to move out. Maglor looked up and called Elros over and Elrond felt a small pang of jealousy. Elros looked at the map that Thannor held out and pointed to an area. The three seemed to agree on the best course and Maglor and Thannor spurred their horses towards the front of the line. Maedhros stared at the keep for the briefest of moments before he turned and sped away. Elrond did not need to see what he had been looking at, he already knew. Saeran stood at the mouth of the main entrance holding Evon and watching Maedhros's retreating back yet again.

* * *

~oOo~

Saeran shot up straight in bed, gasping for air as a small cry escaped from her lips. Her heart was pounding and it took her several moments to get her bearings in the dark room. Her hands frantically clawed at the blankets that covered her, desperate to get them off. When she had finally freed herself, she lurched from the bed to the nearby table, both hands leaning against it for support. _Calm yourself, _she thought as she leaned over the table,_ it was just a dream, just another nightmare._ Her shift clung to her body and her hair stuck to her face and neck for she was covered in sweat. She ran her fingers through her hair pulling it out of her face and away from her neck and over one shoulder. She walked from her main room and thru the small outer room to the small adjacent courtyard. The night was cool and felt good against her burning skin. She walked across the courtyard to the small bench that sat at the foot of a marble statue. She knelt down before the bench so she could lay her head on top of it, her arms crossed underneath. This is where she liked to come when sleep not only evaded her but tortured her as well. The smooth stone of the bench felt cool on her forehead and arms and she sat there for quite some time. Eventually she turned so her back was against the bench and she could lay her head back and look at the sky. A week had passed since the last quake that shook the earth. A week had passed since Elros saw the party of orcs on the borders of the encampment. A week of nightmares since learning that orcs had come so close to the keep. A week since she had her embrace with Maedhros that had left her lost and confused. She still was not sure that it had even happened. She spent her time looking out windows, waiting for his return. She had been spending most of her time in the house of healing, picking up as many chores as she could for Hestil in an attempt for information. She would try to ask questions as innocuously as possible.

"No, the lord Maedhros has never taken a wife," said Hestil. "Not that the Nissi were not vying for his attention. But never did he take a wife."

"So he has never been in love -" Saeran had said.

"Oh, I did not say that now," interrupted Hestil. "It may be argued that he had been in love, or felt something similar for someone. Just never married."

"Who would they argue he might have been in love with?" But Hestil just shook her head.

"That was a long time ago child," she said, staring sadly at some memory unspoken, "a long time ago."

Saeran finished up her work after that for she could tell that Hestil had nothing more to say. She yawned as she looked up at the stars from her seat in the courtyard. What would a great elven prince want with her anyway. She was past her youth and has mothered two children. What could possibly be so desirable about her? Perhaps it was convenience, although the little she had heard about the elves told her that they did not act frivolously in matters of love. But that was with their kind. What of hers? Their lives were just a blink in time to them. Perhaps it was easier to entertain yourself fleetingly with a lowly mortal woman than pledge eternity away with one of your own. When they embraced she had looked into his eyes and thought she saw, what? She is acting like a child trying to live in a fairy tale. For two years she had lived in this keep. For two years he had barely spoken a handful of words to her, always staring at her with those strange unreadable eyes that shown with that odd light. And now this? She stood up from where she sat in the courtyard and slowly began to walk back to her room. _Not any longer,_ she thought. When the next group of evacuees comes through for Ered Luin she and her son will join them. She did not think they would deny her supplies and with any luck he will not have returned before they could leave. _It is decided then. _She walked into her dimly lit room and crossed over to the strange lamp to shut it off and return to bed when she froze, remembering that she had never lit it in the first place. She turned around and slapped her hands to her mouth before the startled scream could escape her lips. Standing against the wall near her door stood Maedhros. He was still dressed in his riding clothes and light armor that looked to be spattered with mud and dirt and other dark things she did not wish to know the source of. She stood there, hands over her mouth and eyes open wide as he stood looking at the ground, neither of them speaking for several moments.

"I . . . we have only just returned," he said not looking up. "I wanted to see you . . . first."

She realized her hands were still over her mouth and dropped them quickly to her sides and said nothing.

"I have struggled with this in vain and I cannot stand it any longer. I have thought of nothing but you since I first saw you standing in the light of Vása. The past turnings of the seasons have been agony for me and I beg you now to end this torture. I held you, and for a brief glorious moment I felt you reciprocate, and it has given me hope for something that I had never allowed or believed myself worthy of before . . . I . . . I would . . .if you . . ."

The words had come out in a rush, spilling forth so fast that he stumbled over them now and looked up at her. The eyes that looked at her were not the same eyes that had threatened to burn her from within before. The stars inside them were dimmed with torment and she thought that the sorrow might swallow her whole. Any trace of defiance she had held earlier was gone now and she no longer cared what his intentions were.

She walked across the room and stood before him studying his appearance. Slowly she reached up and began to remove his gauntlet from his forearm. After she had cast that aside she stood on her tiptoes to reach his shoulder and unclip the riding cloak, letting one side drop behind him. She then moved to the other side, unclipping the cloak and allowing it to fall again although he continued to hold it with his right arm. When she reached for his arm to remove the cloak completely he grabbed her hand, stopping her. She looked up at him, seeing the pain in his eyes and gently took his hand from her wrist. She then pulled the cloak from his arm, revealing his disfigurement. She continued on till all armament was removed from his person and left in a gory pile upon the floor. Throughout all of this he was perfectly still, never moving and now stood before her in nothing more than his tunic and breeches. His tunic was open at the neck exposing a chest that was a canvas of faded scars. Layer upon layer of scar tissue. She reached under his tunic pulling it up over his head and she thought she may weep at the extent of the damage. Her hands trembled as she reached up to trace a finger along the crevasses embedded in his skin. She felt him shudder slightly at her touch and moved closer so she could continue to follow the scar that traveled up his neck, allowing her hand to come to a rest on the side of his face. As he reached around her and placed his hand along the small of her back, she noticed that he had pulled his right arm behind him. She grabbed his arm and placed it around her back as she moved in closer, pulling him to her, her face against his chest listening to his heartbeat. Both of his arms wrapped around her now and held her tightly to him. She turned her head up to look at him and he leaned down, his lips finding hers. There was no hesitation on his part this time. When his lips came down upon hers he kissed her deeply, causing her to press hard against him, her hands gripping his back. He reached down and lifted her up and when her leg wrapped around him he had to stop and balance himself because of the rush of excitement that flooded his senses. He laid her down on the bed, his mouth never leaving hers as their bodies became entwined. His hand reached down under her shift pulling it ever upwards, he longed to feel her skin and the warmth of her body against his own. His entire being ached and he was shocked to discover that she had hooked her foot against his breeches and had pulled them down. He could feel the warmth that came from her and stopped, concern in his eyes.

"Saeran, if we do this," he gasped, "we will be forever connected, forever joined, our fëa becoming one. My pain will become yours, my fear a part of you. I do not –"

"Stop," she said and placed her mouth on his. "I will bear your pain," she said and positioned her hips beneath him, "I will ease your fear." She drew him slowly into her, and at the height of their passion he felt the exact moment when their hearts began to beat in the same pounding rhythm, and when he looked in her eyes he let the fire he saw there consume him.

* * *

~oOo~

Maedhros lay there the rest of the night holding her to him, staring at the sky as the morning light began to peek from behind the hills. He could feel her still. Her fëa forever attached to him, a part of him. He could feel she was at peace, content in her sleep. It was soothing to him and washed away the fear he felt about what he had done, about what he had pulled her into. As the light outside began to grow, he knew he should leave but he could not tear himself from her side. He looked at her, her face relaxed, her dark hair spilled out around her. He would have spent the rest of the day and all of eternity there with her simply staring, if not for the light tapping he felt on his shoulder. He turned over and saw Evon standing there. His hair mussed up on his head and sleep still in his eyes. Per his normal morning routine, upon waking he had left his room and padded down to his mother's room for his morning cuddle. He now stood staring at Maedhros, a petulant look on his face.

"You're in my spot." he said.


	9. Chapter 9

I have received an interesting question on how Caranthir could remarry if the bond is for life and this is my thought. Haleth (we all know I was talking about Haleth in ch 7 right?) was second born and when they die they do not go to the halls of Mandos to be re-embodied. Instead they are released from Arda and depart for "a world unknown even to the Valar." That is a pretty big deal. So taking that in mind, I am going with the fact that once Haleth died; her soul went to wherever it is that Men go severing the bond of marriage between them. Almost like she was never there. With that connection gone he would be free to remarry if he so chooses. Had she been an elf then the bond would still stand because she would be re-embodied once arriving to Mandos. I hope this makes sense. I am sure there are flaws in my logic, but this is my story and I am sticking to it. To the two kind reviewers that have no login, thank you so much! I would send you a pm thanking you but you don't have one so this is me thanking you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Feedback is everything and I am truly truly grateful for it! I hope you continue to enjoy!

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

* * *

~oOo~

When she woke the following morning, she found Maedhros gone and her son curled up against her in his place. When she looked around the room she saw no trace of him ever even being here and would have written it off as a dream if not for the . . . awareness inside of her. Saeran was not sure that "awareness" was the proper word, but there was certainly something different. It was a subtle difference, but it was there, somewhere in her core, she could feel him. It was not unpleasant, but certainly strange and added to her confusion. He had said something to her last night, about some connection they would share. He had whispered into her ear that he was bound to her now and she to him. In truth he could have told her that the world was falling around them and she would not have cared. Saeran jumped up out of bed, suddenly feeling ridiculously giddy and proceeded to dress. After waking and dressing her son, she floated her way down to the kitchens to fetch them breakfast. She glided into the kitchens, humming to herself as she placed some fruit and bread in a piece of cloth. She waved over her shoulder as she left.

"Always a pleasure gentlemen," she called out behind her. The three Noldo who manned the kitchen and had been silently watching her performance looked at each other. One smiled and shrugged and then went back to work.

Saeron and Evon were just finishing their meal when the twins came into the main hall. She smiled brightly up at them.

"Good morning," she cried out cheerfully. "I brought some for you too."

They sat down staring at her as she hopped up.

"I must be on my way to help Hestil," she said as she turned and gave Evon a kiss and a tickle, making him laugh. "I leave him in your excellent care."

She never even noticed how the twins never said anything. Elros turned and looked at his brother after she left.

"It has happened, just like you said."

"Yes," answered Elrond still staring at the door. "She is bound to him now."

Elros sighed. "Then let them have this brief moment of happiness."

"What he did was selfish and will burn him in the end. It changes nothing."

"You cannot stand in judgment of them forever Elrond. I have forgiven, you must as well."

"I have forgiven Elros and he will know happiness and it will be too much to bear when it is lost. I cannot help him even though I desire too. Their fate has not changed. I have foreseen it." Elrond gave a resigned sigh. "I can dwell on the brother's no more. The day is coming when we will leave this place and find our own fate. That is my focus now."

"Oh?" Elros pulled some crust off of his bread. "And what have you seen of that?"

Elrond said nothing, only ate his food.

"All right then, keep your secrets. I hope that whatever it is, I get to make you angry." He tossed some of the bread crumbs at him and jumped up, walking over to Evon.

Elrond gave his brother an exasperated look and picked the food out of his hair, watching Elros grab Evon and swing him around. He loved his brother. He would give his life for him and deny him nothing. But he would not tell him of the vague visions he had seen when he looked into their own future, things that confused and frightened him. He saw loss, and war, the fall of two great cities and a choice. A choice would be forced upon them, and the ending result would eventually separate Elros from him forever, never to meet again not even in the halls of Mandos.

* * *

~oOo~

The week dragged by for Saeran. Any thrill she had felt in the beginning had slowly given away to a slight bitterness. Nine days. Nine days had gone by and nothing. No inkling of when he would return. The feeling inside of her that had at first seemed so exciting now seemed like a nagging reminder of his absence. Saeran had given up on trying to find him and had settled back into her own routine. She never stopped spending her evenings in the main hall though. After everyone had retired, she would come to sit and enjoy the quiet and the fire. Sometimes Maglor would even join her and she was pleased to see that this would be one of those evenings when Maglor walked up beside her. He gestured at the chair across from her.

"May I?"

Saeran smiled and sat up. "Please."

She watched him as he sat, reclining back in to the chair, one stretched out leg crossed over the other, fingers laced together has he rested his hands just below is chest. It never ceases to amaze her how he and Maedhros were able to make the most banal of behavior into the most graceful dance. How different he was from his brother and yet so much alike.

"You are staring"

"Oh, forgive me," she said her face going warm. "I forget myself; I could not help thinking how different you and your brother are."

Maglor looked at her amused. "He does lack my finer features."

"Yes," she said with a small laugh. "Not to mention your manners," she said under her breath.

It was Maglor's turn laugh. "Yes! He is certainly lacking in that at times." Saeran blushed again. She had not meant for him to hear, curse those elven ears. Still, she enjoyed listening to him laugh, even that sounding like music. "You must forgive him though; he has carried much for his family. His scars are not just physical."

"How do you mean?" She immediately regretted the question. "No. Do not say. I should not have asked." Maglor stared at Saeran, face unreadable.

"May I ask a question of you?" he finally said. "Do not feel you must answer but this has been in my mind for some time."

"After all you have done for me and my son; you may ask of me anything."

"We shall see," he said, causing Saeran some uneasiness. _Could he know? _

"I want to ask how you came to be in these woods two years ago. I want to ask of Evon's father." Saeran blinked at that. Not what she was expecting but not so surprising either.

Saeran looked to the fire for some time before answering.

"If you do not wish . . ." started Maglor, but was silenced by a wave of Saeran's hand.

"No, no, you have a right to know. I just want to make sure I am wording this right, so you understand why events fell the way they did." Maglor nodded and waited.

"My family was never very welcome among our people." Maglor noticed how she said "our people" with disdain. "They were never my people. I may have been forced to marry one, but I would never become one. The women in that tribe are goods, traded like so much chattel. My marriage was arranged at my birth in some vain attempt by my father to gain status, although I do not know how he thought it could be attained for one so low." She plucked at the hem of her dress, a nervous habit she had that Maglor noticed. "Fferyll was to be chief and was as vile as the people he led. He held no affection for me and I had none for him. But I did manage to give him two sons therefore my presence was tolerated for a while." She looked at Maglor and he could see the subtle desperation in her eyes.

"Fferyll was a horrible man, a terrible man, who served a very dark lord," she said, her voice sounding almost as if she were pleading with him. "And when I saw him, teaching my sons his acts of cruelty, turning them into him, I knew, I _knew _I had to get them, my children out of there. That is why we did what we did, my mother and I, what we had to do. I would not have been able to get them out otherwise." She sat back, looking very tired.

"What did you have to do Saeran," asked Maglor, gently prodding when she did not speak, already knowing what she would say. She simply turned to Maglor, her face void of all emotion.

"We killed him," she said. "And I fled, my mother telling me to fly to the south . . . and away from Lothlann."

Maglor studied her intently now. _Easterlings, _he thought icily. Saeran continued, never noticing the chill that had come over Maglor's person.

"She said to go south and seek the help of the elves. Her father and grandfather had served some great elven lord and died in his service, she thought that perhaps there would still be some of his people left." Maglor blinked at this. Some memory pulled in the back of his conscience.

"Your mother, where is she now?"

"She would not come with us no matter how much I begged. She had weathered some seventy plus seasons and said she would only hinder me, although I told her otherwise. She stayed behind to give us the time we needed to leave." Her voice dropped down to a whisper as she spoke. "I feel it is safe to assume that I will not be seeing her again."

Maglor studied Saeran and knew there was something she was still hiding but decided not to press her. _Another _time_, _he thought. They sat at the fire continuing to talk into the night. Saeran asked about his childhood and Maglor smiled as he told her stories of the forges of Mahtan and the courts of Finwë, of great hunts with his brothers and his cousins and of halls that were too beautiful to imagine. He spoke wistfully and with longing and Saeran became saddened when she thought of all they had lost. Maglor stopped himself when he saw her becoming upset.

"Come," he said, "it is late and I have been selfish. You must rest."

Saeran laughed. "I could listen to you all night."

"Then I will test your resolve, but at a later date." Saeran tried to protest but Maglor would have none of it. She stood up and bid him good night, but as she turned to leave Maglor called out to her once more.

"Saeran, when your mother spoke of her father that he had sworn fealty. I am curious; do you know which lord he served?"

Saeran looked back at him and shook her head. "The only name she ever used for the lord was in the old tongue . . . Týr I think she called him, and I do not know the manner of her father's death, only that he died fighting traitors that were among his people. But his name was Borlad, son of Bór." She smiled and said good night.

Maglor bid her goodnight and sat back in his chair, mulling over the second revelation to have taken him by surprise tonight. _Easterlings,_ he thought bitterly. _Typical that I would unknowingly aid Easterlings._ Well it was too late now. He could not send them from his house even if he wanted to. The peredhil would never forgive him. He had grown fond of them as well and would not hold the sins of her people against her. He had far more blood on his hands than her. Indeed, he knew he was the last person qualified to stand in judgment of anyone when it came down to it. _Borlad, _he thought_, son of Bór. _Maglor suddenly sat up straight, recognition finally coming to him. The image of a strong broad man and his sons came to his mind. Three sons. They had sworn allegiance to Maitimo and died keeping their word, defending him against the treachery of Ulfang and his ilk. _She is the descendant of Bór, _he thought as he shook his head and laughed at the strange twists that fate kept delivering him.

* * *

~oOo~

_Maedhros stood at the edge of the long wall, watching for any signs from the battle that stormed at the Sirion. Brithombar and Eglarest had been retaken and the Enemy routed from that land but it would be at the Ford of Brithiach where the true test would be. It was the only place where the host from Aman would be able to cross and the Enemy would defend it fiercely. Once the battle crossed there it would easily cut through East Beleriand all the way to the Blue Mountains where the dwarves waged their own wars against Morgoth's minions. The land was being torn apart. He wondered if anything would be left by the end. He turned and looked back towards Amon Ereb. She pulled at him and he wanted nothing more than to return. And yet, he stayed away. There was no reason for him and his men to be out here. Thannor had lightly pressed to return but still he stayed. He would have cursed himself for his weakness if he had not already damned himself centuries ago. He did not deserve any reprieve. He had created this burden and it was his to carry, no one else. What kind of existence had he brought her into? What kind of punishment would come to her from his frenzied need? His guilt had kept him away this long but the pull on his fëa was strong and selfishly he wanted her. She was his and he reveled in the knowledge that she was a part of him. He did not call to the One to witness for he would take no oath ever again. The Valar did not hear his prayers and had turned their backs to his pain. But he would bind himself to her. She filled the void the abandonment of the Valar had created and the loss of Findekáno intensified. He could feel that bond and find the comfort he so desperately needed. The memories of that night stirred him. He knew what it was to feel again and he would have this while he could. No, he will not deny himself this. He had been denied enough. He called out to Thannor. They would leave at first light._

* * *

~oOo~

Saeran held up a plant for Hestil to look at.

"Well?" she asked.

"Another weed," answered Hestil, shaking her head. "Check your roots."

Saeran threw the plant down in frustration, dropping herself down on the ground. She would have this whole field weeded before they were through. Her basket for collecting herbs had one, very scrawny, sad little plant. Hestil's basket on the other hand was overflowing. She wiped at her forehead smudging dirt along her face. When Hestil had asked Saeran to help her to collect herbs with her, she had thought it would be a way to remove herself from her surroundings. She had noticed after her conversation with Maglor that he did not look at her the same. Whether it was because of her revelations about her past or because he had some insight into what had transpired between her and his brother (and she prayed endlessly it was not the latter), he looked at her differently. She found herself avoiding his eyes as much as possible in fear that he may have some ability to see into her, to sense the bond somehow. She grabbed at another plant ripping it from the ground and started to hold it up but Hestil was shaking her head no before Saeran could fully extend her arm. She threw the plant in the ever growing pile of rejects behind her.

"I don't know why you ask me to help you with this," she called to Hestil. "I have accomplished nothing."

"Nonsense, you are good company and that is an accomplishment." Hestil smiled and took some of her herbs and placed them into Saeran's basket. "Better?"

"Now you are just being mean." Saeran picked up a clump of dirt and threw it at her playfully. Hestil sat down next to Saeran and handed her some of the dried venison she had packed.

"Hestil, may I ask you something?"

"Ask."

"What does it mean when . . . to . . . bind yourself amongst your people?"

"The binding? You mean marriage?"

"Marriage?!" exclaimed Saeran.

"Well that is what your people would call it, though I believe it is far more sacred for the Noldor." Hestil realized how that sounded and quickly apologized. "Forgive me. I do not mean to belittle you in anyway, it is just that marriage amongst the second born is sometimes . . . well similar to trade."

"No," Saeran sighed, "you are right about that."

"It is the act of bodily union that achieves marriage. And once joined, they are forever linked, forever bound, till the end of their days taking no other." Hestil smiled sounding whimsical as she spoke.

"Forever bound, taking no other?"

"It is not something that is approved of, although it has been done, for a neri or nissi to bind themselves to someone again. One mate, one life."

"So," said Saeran slowly, "for someone to pledge themselves to you in this way, is no small matter."

"One mate, one life," Hestil said again. "Once the union is made, it can never be sundered, not even in death, not even by the will of the One. It is not something that is entered into lightly. You are making a promise through eternity and beyond."

Saeran sat there, eyes wide. "For the Noldor?" she asked.

"For all Elves, for we are all His children."

"What about for those not of your kind," asked Saeran. "Would it be the same for an elf and mortal?"

"Are you asking about the peredhil's line? Indeed the pairing has happened in the past between their kin. The mother's line being of the Eldar and the father's of man." Hestil became thoughtful for a moment. "While I do not know how their bond affected them, I do know that neither couple could suffer separation and are said to dwell in Valinor together. So, perhaps that is answer enough."

"Has any elf lord ever loved a mortal woman?"

"Yes," said Hestil sadly, "I have heard of one, although he never took her to wife, he took no other." Hestil sat next to Saeran, looking at her much more closely. "You," she said, smiling mischievously, "look different." Saeran gave her a very wide-eyed and innocent look.

"I am sure I do not know what you mean," she said and bit down on the meat she had been handed.

"Oh, I think you do." Hestil continued to smile at her. "I have been watching you all week and there is something different." She leaned in to Saeran and whispered almost gleefully. "I can hear it in your voice."

"Oh stop," Saeran threatened her with another one of the clumps of dirt she dug up. "I have a cold. Leave me alone."

"Oh, you have something," she said laughing loudly, "but it is most certainly _not_ a cold." She laughed again as Saeran turned red. "Well, who is he? Some captain of the guard?"

Saeran rolled her eyes and leaned back on her elbows. Hestil laughed.

"Or perhaps one of the_ mighty sons of Feanor!"_ Saeran jumped and gave out a little gasp. Hestil laughed again, taking her reaction for something else.

"Don't be silly child. They are too old to marry and the lord Maglor is already married besides." This time Saran sat up and stared at Hestil in true shock.

"Maglor is _married? . . . _wait, what do you mean too old?"

"I mean he is married and that these things are usually done in our youth," said Hestil, wiping tears of mirth from her face. "Creating the bond so late in life leads to ill chances and strange fates."

The sudden sound of horns pulled them from their conversation. They turned towards the keep and saw a party of riders heading in.

"The lord of Amon Ereb has returned," said Hestil as they watched, "I suppose we should as well. Come on then, play time is over."

Saeran continued to watch the riders enter the keep, her heart pounding in her chest. She watched as one rider separated from the column, allowing the others to file in before him. She watched as he trotted his horse back out to the front of the main gate and turned to face the hill where she and Hestil stood. The great war horse stomped in place, impatient to return to the comfort of the stables. Finally, the rider turned and spurred the animal through the gates and towards the keep, his red hair blazing in the sun as it flew behind him. _He has returned, _she thought fighting the rising tide of excitement building inside of her._ He has finally returned, and I am covered in dirt._


	10. Chapter 10

Please please please please review! Thanks!

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

* * *

~oOo~

Saeran fought with the feelings that roiled around inside of her. The anticipation mixed with fear. He had left immediately after that fateful night without any word on when he would return, much less a good bye. Questions and doubt lingered in her mind and clouded her thoughts. Was there regret? How would he act when she sees him? What if there are others around? Does she pretend she feels nothing? She had sat here for nine days in confusion, not understanding the change that had come over her and no way to ask someone to explain it except through her innocently veiled questions. And the answers she had received had left her stunned. She regretted nothing, knowing in her heart she would have given herself to him regardless of the consequences. But he left her with no explanation, nothing, just a head that was swimming with an onslaught of emotions. One moment she was elated at the thought of seeing him and then another moment she felt as if she may sick up on the floor. It was not fair for her to be left alone to come to terms with this on her own, no one for her to turn to. No, she was not ready to see him yet. She was not some pet to be leashed for another's beck and call. This will be done on her terms, when she was ready. She just wished she did not already feel . . . so ready. The turmoil inside of her must have been obvious because even Hestil noticed.

"You look . . . _green_," she said to Saeran, concern in her expression. She took Saeran's face in her hands and studied her. Saeran pulled herself from Hestil's grasp nervously.

"I am . . . I will be fine, I just . . . something I ate perhaps," she struggled to lose Hestil's gaze. "A bath would help."

Hestil continued to study Saeran, looking her up and down. "Hmmm," she narrowed her eyes at her and agreed, "you are filthy."

Saeran gave Hestil a disparaging look.

"Save those looks for your son, they do not work on me," she folded her arms across her chest and stared at Saeran, one eyebrow raised. "Use the baths in the back; I will have Janneth warm some water for you."

Saeran remember the bath Hestil had in the back of the healing house that was used for patients and was suddenly grateful. She would be able to avoid the bath house and wash in private.

"I will warm the water, just ask Janneth to fetch some clothes from the keep if she would." Hestil laughed at that.

"That will never happen, for that child is terrified of the lords who dwell there. You had best see to that yourself, your bath will be ready when you return." Hestil turned around and began to busy herself with the kettles and calling for Janneth. She never saw the look of defeat come across Saeran's face. She would have to return to the keep now whether she wished to it or not.

* * *

~oOo~

_The riders followed the pace their lord set to the keep and as they approached the gate they continued in as he broke off and remained outside. His horse Ectheldoth balked slightly at this, agitated at having to wait as all of his companions continued on inside. The animal was just as ready to return as the rest of the company was. Maedhros nudged him around and back to the front of the gate, turning him in the direction he wanted to see. He knew she was near, he could feel her pulling inside of him. He sought her out, allowing the bond to guide him till his sight fell on two figures on the side of the hill outside the keep. His vision was sharp and could see her clearly. She was sitting, her hands and face smudged with dirt, her hair pulled back in plaits on the side that were drawn into one thick braid down her back. It suited her, this earthy look she wore, and had the healer not been there with her he would have ridden up the hill and taken her there. She stared back down at him and although she could not have known it, she looked him in the eyes and it made him smile. He turned and spurred Ectheldoth into the keep. He had waited this long, he could wait a short time more._

* * *

~oOo~

Saeran did not want to enter through the main doors. She decided to try entering from the back through the kitchens. No matter what she did she would have to go past the main hall but it was big enough that she thought she could slip by without being noticed. When she crept through the outer door and stepped into the kitchen, the three elven men who were always there did not disappoint her with their reaction. They simply stopped what they were doing and stared as she crossed the room. She had become a little brazen with them lately, seeing as they never reacted to anything. As she walked past the nearest one, she raised her finger to her lips.

"Shhhhh," she whispered. "Not so loud."

She slipped out the door and into the corridor that led past the main hall. She came to the corner and peaked around. Some men moved about the hall but not the lords of the keep so she continued on. She ran to her room, terrified she would run into someone. When she reached the door she stopped abruptly, remembering the last two times he had silently entered the room without her knowledge. She slowly opened the door and looked in. No one was there. Immediately, she ran in and grabbed the first pile of clothing she saw and then ran out. She walked swiftly down the corridor to the main hall and froze. Voices floated from the hall now and she knew instantly who was there. Something pulled at the core of her being, threatening to drag her into the room against her will. She slowly looked around the corner. Several Noldo from the riding party were there, pulling out long tables to be seated. Elrond and Elros were seating themselves in the center of the room with Evon. Elrond had a small harp that he was plucking at while Elros went to sit on the ground with her son, both looking at some small figurines and, at the far end of the room near the entrance stood the brother's. They were having a conversation with Thannor that seemed very involved. She decided that this was as good a chance as any. She put her head down and walked swiftly across the back of the hall to the next corridor. She fought the urge to run so as not to pull any unwanted attention to herself. As she was walking she risked a glance over her shoulder and saw that no one had noticed and was just about to congratulate herself when she slammed into a wall. At least she had thought it was a wall until she realized that walls did not hold trays of glasses filled with drink. A tray of glasses filled with drink that now crashed to the ground with an earth shattering sound. _Oh gods_, she thought and looked in front of her to see one of the elven men who worked the kitchen with a startled expression on his face. She might have actually enjoyed that but for the fact that she realized that the main hall had gone completely quiet. _Oh gods_, she thought again and turned her head slowly towards the room. Every head had turned to the back of the room to see the cause of the ruckus. Several amused looks were cast her way and she looked at the elf she had run into to see him smiling slightly at her. He held his finger to his lips.

"Shhh," he whispered, "Not so loud."

Saeran prayed for a tremor, orcs, anything. "I am so sorry," she gasped, bending down to pick up the mess. "I did not mean to . . . oh, I am so sorry," she could feel his eyes on her. She could not think, she had to move, the bond in her was intense and she fought the urge to run to him with every fiber of her being. This was not going according to plan, not at all. "Please, let me just . . ." she felt a hand take hers and she looked up to see the elf from the kitchen giving her a concerned look as her eyes welled up with tears.

"Lav nye," he said gently and took the shards of glass from her hand. From behind her she heard Elros call out.

"Saeran," he called walking over to her. "Where have you been? We have been looking for you!" She turned to face him and saw that most everyone had gone back to whatever they had been doing before the back of room entertainment, except for one. One set of eyes at the front of the hall still watched. She felt a heat rush through her body and knew that she had to get out. She squeezed her eyes shut and darted into the corridor, Elros following behind her.

"Saeran, where are you going?" Elros called out and Saeran turned around, her desperation had reached its boiling point.

"I just want to take a bath!" she cried and ran down hallway. Elros stood there blinking in confusion for a moment before he returned to the main hall. He walked over to Elrond and shrugged.

"She wants to take a bath."

* * *

~oOo~

Saeran ran through the keep and out of the kitchen cursing her clumsiness the entire way. She did not understand what was happening to her. It was as if she had lost all self-restraint. She is a grown woman. She is in control of her being. She is not some child incapable of maintaining her composure. She wiped away the tears of frustration as she burst into the healing house, slamming the door behind her. Hestil and Janneth both spun around in surprise. Hestil gawked at her. She was out of breath and her overskirt was stained with wine.

"What happened?" she cried. "How did you manage to come back even filthier than when you left?" Saeran glowered at Hestil.

"Is the bath ready," she asked through gritted teeth.

"Yes, but the water is still cold."

"Good." Saeran pushed herself away from the door and stomped back towards the room.

After taking a cold bath Saeran felt more herself. She was back in control. She dried off and retrieved the dress she had randomly pulled out of the wardrobe. As soon as she looked at it though, she began to feel sick all over again. It was not the usual modest shift with apron type overskirt that she usually wore. This was a much finer garment. It was a grey so light that it could almost pass for silver. Fine embroidery adorned the neck and hem and when she put it on she felt even worse. The neck scooped out wide on her shoulders, dropping slightly in the back and hugged her form to below the waist before the skirt filled out._ This was not random_, she thought bitterly. Saeran let out a string of curses that brought Hestil and Janneth in the room. When the healer saw her she gasped and clasped her hands together at her mouth while Janneth practically squealed.

"You are _beautiful_!" she cried. "I will do your hair. Sit." Saeran would have protested if she thought it would do any good but she had resigned herself to the truth of her situation. It was absolutely and unconditionally out of her control. They loosely pulled her hair back, Hestil weaving fine silver strands along the sides, letting the rest dangle in her hair that hung free down her back. The two women stood back admiring their handy work when a sudden realization came to Hestil and she ran out of the room, rushing back in with something in her hand. She pulled Saeran to her feet and fixed a thin delicate silver belt low around her waist. Hestil nodded her approval while Janneth "oohed and aahed" to the point that Saeran thought she may strike her several times about the face. They sent her out as if sending out their daughter to her first festival. Saeran felt as if she were going to her doom.

She went back through the kitchens, hoping to slip in for dinner from the back unnoticed. As she walked through the kitchen, the usual three were there but to her surprise she was not met with stony expressions. Instead the three of them looked at her and stood up straight. The one she had run into smiled and lowered his head to her followed by the other three. Saeran gave him a flat look. She was just not in the mood.

Once she reached the end of the hallway she paused and took a deep breath. The bond pulled at her again, but this time she would control it. This time she would not lose herself to the longing. She was still her own person. But just to be safe, she walked around the corner very slowly, in case someone was standing there holding something that could break loudly. As she entered the hall she looked around. It was the busiest she had ever seen it. Tables had been set out for the men and elves of what remained of the brother's company. Almost instinctively though, her eyes were pulled to the center of the hall where the lords of the keep sat. As usual his eyes had found her before she ever saw him but this time she thought she saw a flash of . . . _something_ cross his face. Or so she thought, because she blinked and it was gone and back was the indecipherable expression he always carried. Except for those eyes. His eyes never left her, leveling her very being as he stood up when she entered. Maglor, upon seeing his brother's reaction, turned to see what the cause was and when he saw Saeran he smiled and stood as well. Both lords of Amon Ereb standing had pulled the attention of many of their men in the room, and when they turned and saw Saeran, they stood out of respect for the lady who was entering. Saeran, who had been caught up in seeing Maedhros suddenly realized that everyone was standing and staring at her. She almost turned around when Elros materialized next to her.

"Would the lady allow me the honor of escorting her to her seat?" he grinned widely at her and she was grateful for him. As she took his arm he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"This is a much better entrance than earlier."

* * *

~oOo~

Maedhros stood at the front of the room next to Maglor and Thannor, not really paying attention to the conversation. His mind was elsewhere at the moment. The loud crash from the back of the hall had brought the conversation around to Saeran and her son. When he saw her run out, he would have gone after her if it had not been for his brother and Captain there next to him. It was then that Maglor had spoken of her.

"She is an Easterling," he said looking at Maedhros. Both Maedhros and Thannor snapped their head's around to look at him

"Easterling?" said Thannor, his brow furrowing. "You know this how?" Maedhros said nothing, he only returned his gaze to the back of the hall.

"She told me," said Maglor smoothly. "And not just any Easterling. She is a descendent of Bór." Thannor's brow now shot up in surprise. Maedhros turned slowly back to his brother, expression carefully controlled for Macalaurë could see much in a person.

"Of Bór?' said Thannor. "Father to Borthand and . . . " Thannor struggled for the names.

"Borlach and Borlad," said Maedhros staring at his brother.

"The same," replied Maglor , who returned Maedhros's stare just as steadily. "Her grandsire was Borlad."

Thannor shook his head. "What strange fate is this that the descendants of Bór have returned amongst us? Perhaps to repay a debt?"

"It is I who owe the debt then, for Bór and his sons died defending me. We will speak no more of this. This woman and her child are not of the filth of that tribe."

Maedhros walked away and took a seat in the center of the room. He remembered when the tribes of Bór and Ulfang first came to Beleriand from Eriador seeking lands to settle and he had given generously. They were wide and swarthy men, who were long and strong of arm with dark hair and eyes and grew great beards down their chests. Caranthir said there could be great valor in the race of Man and so Maedhros made alliance with them and the brothers trained them for war. _Bór, _he thought_. Bór, chieftain of the tribe of easterlings who swore allegiance to myself and Maglor. Bór, who with his sons cheated the hope of Morgoth and remained loyal to their oath and died as a result. _They stood against the machinations of the traitorous Ulflang and slew his sons Ulfast and Ulworth before they themselves were killed, but not before the damage had been done. An old familiar pain came into his chest and for a moment the comfort he had found in his bond was lost, the great empty loneliness returning. He looked down at the child at his feet who sat entertaining himself with the small marble figures Maedhros had given him earlier. _Bór's great-great-grandson_, he thought. _Strange fate indeed_.

Maglor and Thannor joined him moments later and Maedhros pulled himself from his pain. Elrond and Elros sat next to them listening to everything that was reported. Maedhros knew that in a few more years they would want to leave to join the effort. They were already becoming insistent on joining the next outing and even Maglor felt it may be time for them to accompany occasionally. Maedhros was against it though. They would slow them down and if one of them should get killed in their care the repercussions would be swift. He sighed and turned his mind away from the conversation and inwards. She was still there, he could still feel her. Her fëa was restless but still there. _Bór's great-granddaughter, _he thought. Was it through a treacherous tribe of men that he may know peace? The irony was not lost on him. He was not sure how much time had passed when he felt her return. He knew she lingered in the corridor and watched the back of the hall for her to enter only to find he was not prepared for what he saw. She came into the room and stood in the back. Gone was the girl he had seen earlier, covered in earth and laying in the sun. The woman before him now rivaled the light of any of the Valar to him and when her eyes found his found himself rising from his chair before he knew what he was doing. She was a vision to him, shining with the light of the stars in her hair and in the depths of her dark eyes. This was not a child of from a deceptive race of Men devoid of honor or dignity, she was a child of Ilúvatar descended from Varda herself and he was bound to her and she to him. She looked down and away and did not meet his gaze again and he cursed himself for staying away so long for he could see her doubt. He watched as the peredhil walked over to her and felt what he could only discern as jealousy as Elros offered her his arm. He felt the feeling intensify as he whispered some secret to her and she smiled, bringing her some small joy where he could not. He regained control over his emotions and lowered himself back down to his seat, resuming his feigned interest in the conversation around him. He could not look at her for if he did Macalaurë would know. Macalaurë, who knew all of his deepest secrets and darkest anguish. He could hide nothing from him and nor did he try. They shared their own bond in a way, though it was dark and filled with torment. But he was not ready to share this, not yet. It was much more likely that he already knew anyway and kept it to himself in that quiet way he has. The men in the hall began to slowly leave, paying their respects to the lords of the keep and their guests on their way out. As the people in the hall thinned Maedhros found himself staring at Saeran several times without knowing. He looked to her as she laughed at something Elros said. He watched her as she patiently listened to Elrond talk to her of the One and the awaking of his children along Lake Cuiviénen. He watched as her son showed her the small marble figures he played with and she studied them, examining the craftsmanship. She asked her son who gave them to him and blinked in surprise when he brightly answered her. She looked up at him and he felt his heart quicken and his face soften and almost gave into a smile. She stared into him and he felt he might be consumed, and he begged her for release. When she looked away to look at another figure that her son was holding up, his head dropped slightly, as if a line had been cut and found himself letting go a breath he had not realized he was holding. He turned towards the fire after that, willing himself not to look at her again lest he give himself away. He felt as if the night wore laboriously on. But he noticed fatigue began to take the child and the boy climbed on to his mother's lap where sleep eventually won over. She stood then with her son in her arms and bid them good night, but stopping in front of Maedhros before she left. Holding her son in one hand and the small satchel that held the tiny figures in the other, she spoke.

"My lord," she said and Maedhros fought the urge to look at her. "My lord, Evon said that you gave these to him but he must be mistaken. They are too fine a work for a child. I would return them to you before some damage is done." Maedhros waved the bag away, still looking at the fire.

"They were indeed a gift, take them. They are a child's plaything and he will have more use for them than I." While Maedhros never looked away from the fire, he was aware that Maglor stared pointedly at the satchel for he knew whose hands had tirelessly carved the tiny figures in there. She dropped her hand to her side and continued to stand before him. Did she not understand what she was doing?

"Thank you my lord," she said softly, "that is very kind." She turned and left and for the second time that night Maedhros let go the breath he did not realize he was holding. He watched as the peredhil followed her, the mother and her cubs.

* * *

~oOo~

Saeran placed the last of the figurines on the shelf above Evon's bed. The craftsmanship was exquisite. There were seven total, each one their own individual. One stood with a great hound next to him while another looked as if he were dressed for the forge, a smithy's hammer in his hand. Two of them looked almost identical but for some slight difference in their hunting apparel and another stood alone, arms folded across his chest and seemed to look down at her from where he stood on the shelf. But it was the last two that had caught her attention the most. One sat with a harp on his lap, his face turned up as if in song while the last stood with his hands resting on the hilt of a sword, the blade pointed down in the ground while his head was slightly lowered and his eyes closed, as if in prayer. She would have thought those two figures could be the lords of Amon Ereb but for the figures were carvings of youths. They were all young boys that did not look to be any older than the twins. She found them beautiful and hoped that Evon would treasure them. When she turned around she saw that the twins had taken up their usual posts in their room. Elrond sitting down to read while Elros flung himself on his bed. She turned back around and gave Evon a kiss on his forehead and crossed to the door. As she left Elrond called out to her.

"You look lovely tonight Saeran," he called from his corner. She looked back at him and smiled.

"You flatter me sir," she laughed. But Elros spoke up behind her.

"You do and everyone noticed," he said staring up at the ceiling.

She paused for moment, but both young men had returned to their own little worlds. She bid them good night and left. She walked down the corridor thinking on the events of the evening. Maedhros had not looked at her once after she had been seated. He had sat there, speaking to Maglor and Thannor in that strange language. The only time he had acknowledged her was when Evon had told her that Maedhros had given him the marble figures. She did not believe it at first but when she looked at him she knew. But when she looked in his eyes it seemed as if it pained him and she became confused all over again. She could not help but think that he had some regret with what he had done. Maglor had to have told him why she was here, of the dark deeds of her past. Did he think less of her now? Did he think that perhaps she would slip a knife into his chest as well? He had to know that she only did what she had to do. She came to the main hall and found it empty, but the silence that greeted her held no comfort tonight. She turned and walked hastily to her rooms, praying fervently that he would be there, but when she opened her door she found her rooms empty. Fear began to build inside her and tears threatened to flow. She had to see him. She knew his chambers were somewhere down here. This used to be his study after all so they could not be far. She would find him. He had walked into her rooms plenty of times without permission, she had earned the right. As she walked down the corridor she stopped, a sudden horrifying thought coming to her mind. What if she found him and he did not wish to see her? What if her actions had appalled him to the point of revulsion? _No, _she thought_. I have done nothing wrong. I did what I had to and no one will stand in judgment of me_. Anger started to build up now and she decided she would not hunt him down. He had found her before, he could find her again. It was not for her to roam the halls seeking him out. Suddenly a hand shot out of the dark and spun her around, the walls flying by in a blur. And when she felt his mouth press against hers, she kissed him back eagerly any and all pretense of defiance gone. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled her to him with such force she thought she would never catch her breath. The bond between them pulsed and she buried her face into his neck, overwhelmed with joy as he lifted her up and carried her into his chambers.

* * *

_Lav nye – Quenya - allow me/let me_


	11. Chapter 11

This one took a while. Not sure what I think of it myself. As usual I love getting your messages and I will always respond to a pm or review. Unless you are being a jerk. Seriouosly people, it is not the great American novel here, just a fanfic. Chill.

That said, please please please please read and review. Thanks!

As usual I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

* * *

~oOo~

Maedhros leaned back in the chair in front of the fire. He wore nothing but his breeches, unconcerned with exposed scars. He did not even bother to tie the laces to his pants, allowing them to hang loosely about his waist. He stared at the figure sleeping in his bed. She lay on her stomach, covers draped across her, leaving her back exposed. Her hair fanned out over the side of the bed obscuring her face. But he knew she slept. He could feel her content through the bond they shared and knew she was at peace. He closed his eyes and breathed it in, inhaling her serenity, allowing it to wash over him. It was in these moments he felt young again, he felt whole again. As if some missing piece to the puzzle had finally snapped into place and all of the horrors of the past were nothing more than a bad dream.

_It changes nothing._

His eyes snapped open as Macalaurë's voice rang through his mind, disturbing his calm like ripples on a pond. The figure on the bed stirred slightly but did not wake. He settled his mind again and looked back at the fire. Macalaurë. While Maedhros had not told his brother anything, Macalaurë knew. He knew and said nothing. That was fine with Maedhros. He did not feel that he owed any explanation and had no intention of giving one. This was his and his alone. He had sacrificed everything, his youth, his love of word, the kingship, Káno – instinctively he grabbed his wrist, stifling the dull throb that started in his arm with even the thought of the name. The figure on the bed stirred again and let out a soft moan. Maedhros closed his eyes and calmed his mind once more. The bond. It made her susceptible to his pain. She could feel it as surely as her own. He would not allow himself to pass his torment on to her. Káno was gone, never to return and she could never replace him. Maedhros had thought he would never care about anything again as much as he did for Káno. But somehow she found him and awoke something he had not thought he was capable of anymore. The love she felt for him coursed through their bond and, all the things he had been denied in the past, he reveled in now selfishly. He could never have enough of her, the feel of her skin and the way her body felt when she was wrapped around him. He gazed at her hair and the curve of her back. The way her arms crossed beneath her head and the space between her neck and shoulder; her eyes in the firelight. He smiled. She was awake now. He glanced over at her from the corner of his eye and knew she was watching him through the curtain of hair. She could not control the bond the way he could and he could tell much. She thought him beautiful. His scarred and deformed body was perfect to her and she loved it all. She accepted everything and questioned nothing. He stood up and crossed the room and crawled into the bed next to her. She immediately turned to face him, arms wrapping around his neck and a leg hiking up around his waist. He looked into her eyes. No, she was not Káno, but he found that when he was with her, the name did not hurt as much as it used to.

* * *

~oOo~

"Mára aurë," said Saeran as she entered the kitchen.

"Aiya!" the three men answered back without stopping their work. One of the three called out to her a she walked through. "Titta osellë!" he said and tossed a bundle to her. She smiled at him.

"Hantanyel," she called as she walked out the door and into the corridor.

"Namárië," they answered after her in unison. Saeran laughed softly as she left the kitchen. They had come a long way, the four of them. She walked in to the main hall where Elros sat with Evon waiting for her and set one of the bundles down next to them.

"_His_ lunch," she said gesturing to Evon as she slapped Elros's hand away. "This is yours and your brother's." She dropped the rest down in his lap and he gave out an "omph" of surprise. He flashed one of his winning smiles.

"Sweet lady, how can I ever repay you for the care you show us?" Saeran placed a hand on her hip and cocked her head at him.

"Teach him his letters and don't eat his share."

Elros narrowed his eyes at her. "You drive a hard bargain, but I accept."

Saeran shook her head at him and gave him a playful swat at his head which he easily avoided. Elrond walked up behind them carrying several books and reams of parchment.

"Come," he said, "we have much to do before we meet with Maglor today." He dropped some of the books on Elros's lap causing yet another surprised "omph" to escape his lips. "We are to translate these from Quenya to Sindarin before we meet with him to go over the metallurgy we were to study last night." Elrond looked at his brother. "You did study last night?" Elros took great offense at the question.

"Of course," he cried indignantly. "I just need to take a quick look at your notes to refresh myself."

Saeran looked at the three young boys in front of her. Well, at least one young boy. The other two were easily young men now. The twins would be sixteen with the coming of the warm season and Evon would turn five. Evon tried to emulate everything they did, he worshiped them so. They were infallible to him and he followed them everywhere. And when he could not follow them he attached himself to Maglor, begging him to read some book or play some tune, to which Maglor always obliged. She had tried to pull Evon away one day, fearing that he was becoming a nuisance and Maglor stopped her, assuring her that the time spent was treasured. And while he smiled as he spoke she could not help but feel an undercurrent of sadness in his words. She often wondered how much Maglor knew of her and Maedhros, or if he knew anything. In truth, she did not believe you could really hide anything from Maglor, even if you wanted to. She had asked Maedhros once if his brother knew of where she spent her nights but he just laughed.

"You just continue with your days as you normally would," he told her. "Your nights are no one's concern but mine." She would be lying if she said she was not pleased with that answer.

The first few months had been problematic for her. She had a very difficult time staying away from him. She would find herself wandering the keep hoping to run into him like some silly girl, staring dewey-eyed after him from across the room. She did not feel it was just her though. He enjoyed walking past her where she sat and letting his hand brush lightly against her hair or along her back, causing her to shudder involuntarily. He would always keep walking away after, leaving her to gather her wits about her on her own. She could feel his satisfaction through the bond and her irritation at that only seemed to please him even more. It was the damn bond. It gave her away every time. She often wondered just what all he could tell of her from their bond but whenever she asked him he would just smile at her and say "much". That was fine though for she had her tricks as well. While it was almost impossible for her discern specific feelings, she knew when she was getting rise out of him. Once, on a particularly hot day outside, her hair was free and she pulled it up with her hands to the top of her head and held it there, leaving her neck and shoulders exposed for the breeze, loose tendrils falling from her grip. She felt him through the bond then, a warm heat washing over her. And while she could not find where he watched her, she knew that he did. After that she would wear her hair free about her shoulders and always in his presence, she would casually gather her hair up or push all of it to one shoulder exposing the side of her neck. Always the same reaction, the same rush of heat. After a night of her pulling her hair to the side and leaning a certain way in front of him, he had grabbed her in the hallway and took her to his room, muttering about "foolish games" and "silly girls". She just laughed and exposed more than her neck as she covered him in kisses. Another time, Evon had taken a fall from Elros's horse and her heart felt like it had jumped out of her chest as she ran over to him blind with panic. Miraculously Evon was fine with only minor cuts and bruises, but as she stood to take him to Hestil she saw Maedhros in the distance on Ectheldoth. He had been with Thannor on the other side of the keep so she knew that he would have ridden hard to get there so fast.

Still, desire seemed to course through the bond more than anything and she wondered why that was stronger than most. She had asked him one night as they lay in his bed.

"It is like that in the early years from what I have been told," he said while absently twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers. "For begetting a child mostly I suppose." Saeran gave a start when she heard that and looked up at Maedhros.

"Children?" she squeaked. "You mean having babies?"

He gave her a bemused look came over his face, "The last time I checked, that was the usual result from begetting." Saeran sat up and pushed herself away, drawing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms about her knees. Her hair fell from Maedhros's hand, his bemused expression gone replaced with concern. "What? Tell me, what?" He sat up and pushed her hair back to see her face.

"I . . . Evon's birth was hard on me, on my body and my husband – my late husband . . . well, he was not the tender sort," she paused to find the words and Maedhros felt anger fester in the back of his mind at the thought of the late husband. "I cannot have children Maedhros, ever again. It is impossible for me to get pregnant."

He understood her then. She thought he would not want her anymore. He reached for her and pulled her partially on top of him and resumed playing with her hair.

"I was never meant to have children Saeran. I came to peace with this a long time ago," he chuckled softly as he spoke. "I am too old anyway."

Something about what Maedhros just said touched at the back of Saeran's mind. Reminding her of something she had heard before but could not quite remember. But then Maedhros pressed his lips to hers and all thought was lost.

"I have you," he said, "and that is enough." Maedhros stared at the lock of hair he spun around his fingers for a moment before he spoke again. "Do you miss your late husband?"

Saeran looked at him slowly, as if he had sprouted another head. "You are aware how he became my "late" husband yes?" she asked somewhat warily. Maedhros let out a laugh before he could stop himself.

"Yes, I am aware." He smiled as he continued to play with her hair. "I was just wondering if you felt regret." Saeran laid her head on his chest and listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart for some time before she spoke.

"Fferyll's only contribution to my existence was the creation of my sons. And even that was torture. After the birth of Evon it was determined that I would never have another child and I spent many nights in fear waiting for him to dispose of me, for I was now a useless thing, something he took great pleasure in reminding me of. He was cruel and hateful and I have no regret over his loss other than the certain doom I left my mother to." She stopped for a moment and thinking again on what she had done. "If my soul is damned for these acts then it is a worthy sacrifice to save my sons. Although," she spoke now so softly now that if Maedhros had not the hearing of the Eldar, he would never have heard, "one was lost regardless so perhaps that is the price I pay for my wickedness."

Maedhros suddenly held Saeran tight to him as he rolled over and situated himself on top her. He pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. She felt herself respond and arched her body against his. When he finally released her, she was shrouded in his hair and his eyes were ablaze with light so white it seared into her. His lips lightly brushed against her as he spoke, "you are not wicked," he whispered in her ear, and she trembled as she felt the warmth of his breath and the feather light touch of his lips travel down the line of her neck. "You are mine now," he said softly as he positioned himself between her legs, his mouth gently moving to the other side of her neck. "Nothing will ever harm you again, this I –" that was all he was able to say for she pulled him into her then unable to deny herself any longer. But words were no longer needed for they spoke to each other through their bond and she lost herself in his light as it consumed them.

And so she went about her days in the usual manner, which consisted of assisting Hestil whenever she was needed most of the time. Being the middle of winter there were plenty of colds and coughs to deal with, but nothing beyond the aid of a warm meal and rest. She enjoyed her time with Hestil and found herself wishing she could tell her the secret she carried. Saeran still took time to see Dannil as well, in spite of the cold weather. Hestil always fussed at her to wrap up when she did, always reminding her how easily the second born get sick. So she wrapped up in the fur lined cloak and gloves she had and made her way to Dannil's hill. She would never stop going. For as long as her legs would carry her she would come out here. A light snow had begun to fall and she wrapped her cloak tight around her where she sat. The tree had been partially pulled up with the last large quake that had shaken the land, but it did not die. She liked to think it stayed to offer some shelter for her son. He would have been sixteen this season as well. She rubbed at her eyes. She did not wish to start crying out here today. It was too cold and her nose would run. She felt for the bond and found the comfort she needed. She smiled to herself and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She would not stay long today. Even if it had not been so cold, she still would leave early. Maglor had asked her not to wander to far from the keep. Many evacuees from various areas of Beleriand had been passing through on their way to the mountains and not all were agreeable. Maglor felt there were some very unsavory types coming through lately and while he did not deny anyone aid, he did not let some of them tarry; giving them supplies and then sending them quickly on their way. She would head back soon. It was cold and her nose would run and she knew if she did not get Evon, he would try to stay outside with the twins and Maglor as they practiced with swords today. They did not feel the cold the she and Evon did and Evon did not seem to understand he was not an elf. She kissed her hand and placed it on the small mound that was becoming sprinkled with snow. With a sigh she pulled herself from the ground and headed back to the keep.

She made her way past the practice yard to see if Evon was with the twins. A she approached the clearing she stopped just short of it, remaining in the tree line. Evon was at the edge of the ring atop Thannor's shoulders. It never ceased to amaze her, the fascination that the elves of the keep had with her son. Even the soldiers would stop what they were doing to assist with him. She was not sure if it was because there were no children in the keep or if elves just liked children in general, but Evon was never lacking for fathers. But that is not what she watched at the moment. The twins were starting a round of sparring practice and in the center of the ring were Maedhros and his brother. Back to back they stood with the twins and an extra soldier each flanking them on both sides. The twins wore a light armor and Elros wielded a long spear while Elrond had his practice sword. Maedhros and Maglor wore nothing more than thin overcoats over their tunics, although Maedhros had his cloak on and draped over his right arm as usual. Saeran noticed jealously that the cold did not touch any of them._ I bet their noses have never run a day in their lives_, she thought bitterly. When she realized that Maedhros was completely unaware of her presence, so focused was he on the task at hand, she decided to stay and watch. She was rarely ever able to walk up on Maedhros unnoticed and wanted to take advantage of it.

Maedhros and Maglor never moved as they watched the twins and the other two guards circle cautiously around them. And when movement finally did come, it was quick and Saeran became light headed trying to follow it. She thought it started with Elros and his man lunging first and Maedhros dropping down so Maglor could parry Elros and Maedhros could block Elrond who attacked as soon as Elros moved. But then Maedhros was back facing Elros, snapping his cloak like a whip to push the boy back and parry the other soldier as Maglor spun back to Elrond and his man. It was dizzying to watch, but from what she could tell, Maedhros and Maglor never left the other's side. They never left the other exposed. Their movements were almost as one, fluid and quick. No ground was gained for Elros, Elrond or their men and the frustration became plain on the twins faces. But Maedhros and Maglor betrayed nothing. Their faces were blank and unreadable. The difference was striking on Maglor. Saeran was so used to his visage seeming gentle, if not tired, in a far off day-dreamy kind of way. This look did not suit him and yet when he moved it was as natural to him as if he were taking up his music. But where it was unsettling on Maglor, it was frightening on Maedhros. She did not know who he was at the moment. He looked . . . cold, unfeeling. He landed every blow with deadly accuracy. And he pulled nothing and spared no one. Several times Elrond and Elros would get taken down only to scramble desperately out of the way before he landed the next blow, knowing that if it connected they would not be getting up as quickly as they went down. But his face is what haunted her most. Gone were the stormy grey eyes that looked on her with such longing at times that she would have to leave his presence if others were around. They looked black now, and empty. A thought came to her as she watched him like this, something she had heard somewhere that was now dredged up like the memory of a bad dream, something about chance and fate.

_Ill chances and strange fates_.

As the thought rang through her mind, she looked at Maedhros and was suddenly afraid. Maedhros abruptly turned and looked to where she stood in the trees, his cold dead stare landing directly on her causing her to take an involuntary step back. Elros saw his distraction as an opportunity and leapt at him, spear swinging. Maedhros simply stepped aside and caught Elros's feet with his cloak and yanked the boy straight to the ground with a loud thud. Elrond turned and attempted to go to his brother's aid and ended up being disarmed and dropped on the ground next to him by Maglor.

"Elros," said Maglor, "when are you going to learn to keep your feet on the ground?" He bent down and took the twins by the hands and helped them both up.

"I will tag you one day," said Elros rubbing his backside. Maglor raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on Elros's shoulder.

"And when you do I will give my sword to you, but until then," he poked his finger at the young man's chest, "keep your feet on the ground." Elros broke into a wide smile.

"I will hold you to that."

"I am sure you will."

Maedhros never turned from the trees, his eyes locked where Saeran stood. She could not move. "Again!" he barked. "That was sloppy. Thannor, take the boy inside to wait for his mother. We will need you for the next one." If there was any dissention about having to go again no one spoke. They simply gathered themselves and began to reset. Thannor turned with Evon towards the keep and Saeran silently tore herself from Maedhros's gaze to follow, never stepping out of the tree line. And while she was certain no one could see her where she walked in the shadows, she knew that one set of eyes never left her as she did.

* * *

~oOo~

_That night Maedhros and Thannor rode hard through the hills of Amon Ereb and along the great wall. The battle was raging today and the ground rumbled under the weight. After reaching the nearest peak of the Andram they looked over the remains of Doriath to where the war pushed towards Tol Sirion and into the north. The hosts of the Valar were arrayed in forms young and fair and terrible and the mountains rang beneath their feet. But the host of Morgoth was also great with uncounted legions of orcs and the whole of the north was aflame with war. But it was the fires that held Maedhros and slowly filled him with the dread of the past. The flames of unnatural heat, searing the eyes and the skin. The Balrogs came forth in numbers great beyond count and Maedhros closed his eyes to the memories of Thangorodrim and of Balrogs that crushed bodies to pulp beneath their feet. He sought out the bond to remind himself he was no longer alone but found little comfort and for the first time in many days he felt dread._

* * *

~oOo~

That night Saeran found herself standing upon a great precipice. It was lightless and unfamiliar. She thought she was alone in the gloom when a man came towards her from the shadows. At first she had thought it was Maedhros, for he had his face but his hair was dark and he was bigger and brighter in a way she did not think possible. He was blinding to look at for her and she had to turn away. But when she did, he began to change. His eyes became a sickly yellow and his teeth became pointed and sharp and he wore a crown with two glowing orbs upon it. She tried to run but found herself chained and unable to escape. And then he laughed. He just laughed and laughed as monsters made of fire began to cut along her body.

Saeran jerked awake with a gasp to find herself back in her room, Maedhros lying next to her. Her breathing was ragged and she struggled to control it. She pushed her hair from her face to find herself damp with sweat. Holding her hand to her chest he regained control of her senses and look down at Maedhros and saw his eyes flutter beneath closed lids. _He is sleeping_, she thought in slight shock. Every night he had spent in her rooms or her in his, she had always awaked to him either staring down at her or sitting in front of the fire. Never before had she ever seen him sleep, much less dream as she thought he was doing now. And from what she could tell, it did not look to be a pleasant dream. He had returned late tonight. She had already been in her rooms asleep when he arrived and unaware of him joining her in bed. The tremors had started again with increased frequency and he and Thannor had ridden out to survey the damage. She did not like it when he left on these forays into the wild. He came back grim and pensive. And the bond, while always there seemed to feel . . . murky to her. As if she knew of his presence but could not find him or reach him. No, she did not like that sensation at all. As she looked down at him she touched at the bond lightly and recoiled in alarm. Turmoil and fear and rage coursed through in such force she thought it would tear her from the inside. She laid her hand upon his chest and spoke gently.

"Maedhros," she whispered. His eyes continued to flutter rapidly and she thought he may have flinched when she said his name. "Maedhros," she said, her voice becoming more urgent with each word. "Maedhros please my love, wake. Mae – "

Saeran stopped talking suddenly unsure of what was happening. The words were on her lips and she tried to speak but found she could not. She could not breathe. Somehow she had become pinned against the headboard and could no longer breathe. A great pressure was upon her throat and her hands reflexively reached up to remove the obstacle only to find she could not. It was a hand and it was crushing her. Realization and panic began to build inside of her as she looked at her assailant. Maedhros stood hunched over her, his face contorted with rage and his eyes, his beautiful grey eyes, were black. Gone were the fire and stars. Black, empty, dead eyes stared at her filled with cold, vengeful death. He was hissing something at her, but she could not understand him. Her vision was becoming blurry and the frantic blows she rained down on his arm did nothing. Desperately she reached around for something, anything to defend herself with. She felt something hanging along the head board, something long and heavy at the end. And with a last determined burst of energy she swung the item at Maedhros as hard as she could, striking him along the face. It did not knock him down, but his head snapped to the side and he seemed to awaken from his stupor. His grip relaxed on her throat and she dropped down on the bed, ragged desperate gasps for breath came from her person. Maedhros looked at his hand next to her throat, the belt in her hand, and felt the welt forming on the side of his face. A horrible awareness came to him. He shrank back against the headboard, the horror of what he had done becoming clear in his mind. Saeran was on all fours on the bed, her head hanging down, still gulping air into her lungs. She wanted to reach to him, to comfort him but found her movement sluggish and when she tried to raise her hand out to him she ended up collapsing on her side. Maedhros let out a little cry at this and reached out and scooped her up into his arms, kissed her face and wept.

* * *

~oOo~

"Maitimo what have you done."

Maedhros looked at his brother and said nothing. He knew not what to say. The nightmares that had been gone for so long, the dark spirits that had hunted him in the night, they had found him again. After almost a year of evading them, they tried to take him again and this time, they tried to take her as well. The bruises on her neck, dark and angry, accused him every time he looked at her. When Maglor saw Saeran's neck, the silence he had kept for so long was now over.

"Why?" Maglor asked. "Why would you do this? Create this bond with her?" Maedhros said nothing, only looked away to the floor. "It changes nothing, Maitimo – the oath is still there, it will always be there and now you have tied her to our fate."

"It is not about the oath."

"What then?"

"I do not know."

"Loneliness?"

"Maca-"

"She is second born, she will die."

"Enough."

"You are placing a bandage over a wound that cannot heal."

"Enough Macalaurë."

"She is not Káno."

"_ENOUGH_!" Maedhros's voice boomed through the hall and silence fell. He looked to the floor unable to face his brother's eyes. "I know she is not, I know but . . . I need this Macalaurë. I need her. Never did I think I would be able to feel this again. Never did I think myself worthy . . ." Maglor watched his brother in silence and waited for him to continue.

"I have only ever done what was expected of me. For our father, for my brothers, for our people, for the Valar, for bloody Eru himself!" Maedhros stopped suddenly and fell back against the wall and looked pleadingly at his brother. "Please," he begged, "just . . . she has filled the emptiness inside me. I would . . . But now . . ." Maedhros dropped his head, the list of failures that was his life playing out again and again in his mind. Maglor looked at his brother, struck by what he saw. He was a boy again, made desperate from his self-perceived failures and their father's disappointment. Maglor walked over to his brother and took his face in his hands. He pulled Maedhros's head back up, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"But now what," he asked.

"But now I know I am not worthy. I took something I do not deserve."

"Oh Nelyo," he said using the name he had not said since they were children. "Do you love her?"

Maedhros looked at him with such misery that Maglor feared for his brother's sanity.

"Yes," he whispered desolately, "and now I fear I must turn away from her forever."

* * *

Quenya

Mára aurë – good morn/happy morn, good morning

Aiya – hail (in greeting)

Titta osellë – little/tiny sister

Hantanyel – thank you

Namárië – fare well/be well


	12. Chapter 12

Please please read and review and enjoy

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien

* * *

~oOo~

Maglor walked stood at the outer gate of the keep and watched as the peredhil rode out with Thannor. They were sixteen now and Maedhros and Maglor agreed that it was time for them to join in some of the smaller excursions. Maglor would sometimes join them but only when Maedhros refused to enter the keep forcing Maglor to ride out with them to his brother's camp. Maglor sighed. He would prefer not to go at all, having no more desire to seek out war or hunt the occasional stray orc, but Maedhros's penchant for theatrics is the one thing about him that has never waned. It was becoming quite tiresome. If he did come into the keep it was in the late hours of the night or the wee hours of the morning, depending on how you looked at it. He would skulk quietly through so as not to alert anyone to his presence. Maglor did not know what he thought to prove. Did he plan on continuing this game until she died or left? The keep was not large and eventually he will be confronted with her. They were bound to each other for Manwë's sake, how does one hide from that? But when he had presented Maedhros with that fact, his brother simply shook him off.

"_I almost killed her Macalaurë."_

"_This is your solution?"_

"_I can find no other way. The bond will lesson in time. It has too . . . in time." _

_Maglor wanted to grab Maedhros and shake him. It does not lesson with time, this Maglor knew better than anyone. _

"_And so you would abandon me as well." _

_He had regretted it as soon as he said it. But he was angry now and lashed out the only way he could, through guilt and his brother's sense of duty. Maedhros seemed to wilt with the words and Maglor knew he had won. He knew Maedhros would stay because he looked at Maglor now with the same resignation he had looked at Tyelkormo with when their younger brother's demanded they move against Dior, he had the same look of defeat when Amrod had insisted for action at the Havens. He would stay now even though it would pain him grievously to do so._

"_You are right," he said and his shoulders slumped over, "of course you are right."_

_Maglor went to his brother and wrapped him in an embrace and Maedhros collapsed against him. He would not do this to him._

"_No Nelyo no," he said. "Do as you feel you must." He pulled back so he could look in his brother's eyes. "But I do not think you will find what you seek." Maedhros gave a small bitter laugh._

"_We are Fëanorians Macalaurë," Maedhros whispered, "it is our fate to never find what we seek." And then he left. _

Maglor sighed at the memory. Leave it to Maitimo to find a way. And now he was left here with a very upset and angry atani woman. She was understandably confused at first. It was not uncommon for Maedhros to go out for days at a time, but three months had passed and still he had not returned, at least not that she was aware of anyway. Every night she would sit in the main hall, sometimes sleeping there, waiting. She asked Maglor of Maedhros's whereabouts at first, in a casual off hand way, and every time he would give her the same answer. He did not know. It was not a lie necessarily. He really did not know where he went to or when he would return unless he sent some word. But she had noticed that the twins had started to go on long forays and when their begetting day came and went with still no sign, she stopped asking. After that she never said much, but it did not take him being bound to her to feel her anger. Maglor rubbed at his temples. He was surrounded by children. He looked down at the boy who stood next to him, arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face as he watched the twins ride off without him. Maglor raised an eyebrow at the boy. _Completely surrounded, _he thought.

"Come little one," he said holding out his hand for Evon to take, "perhaps we can go right to our music lesson today." Evon took begrudgingly took his hand but brightened somewhat when Maglor spoke about music. Maglor smiled at the boy. He really was quite fond of him. He had always wanted children himself but . . . well, fate had dictated otherwise. He had come to terms with his bitterness over this some time ago. He made his choices and now he would live with them. But he had been allowed a small taste of joy because of the peredhil and despite of the abhorrent way they came about caring for them, he was thankful. It was because of them that there was a small flicker of hope in Maglor at bringing about some semblance of a life, free of the Oath. It was a futile hope really, but he still held on to it. He had the same hope for Maedhros as well. But when he saw the bruises on Saeran's neck, he knew his brother's demons had resurfaced to torment him. Maedhros had never been the same since his captivity, since Thangorodrim. And his hurt had only been compounded with the death of Findekáno. Káno had always been the only one who could bring Maedhros out of his dark spells. A sadness came over Maglor has he thought of him. _Dear sweet Káno,_ he thought, _who bore good will towards all, hating Morgoth only, seeking neither power nor glory, and death was his reward._ Maglor felt the tiny hand he held squeeze his and he looked down to see Evon looking up at him curiously. Maglor smiled at the boy and shook off his melancholy. There were matters to attend to.

Maglor approached the outer encampment of the keep to see a small caravan that had stopped on their way through. Goweston stood before one of the travelers talking but it was Saeran's reaction that had his attention. She stood in the shadows of the doorway of the keep watching the group warily, making an effort not to be noticed. Maglor turned back to the group before him. Upon first glance they seemed like any other group of refugees fleeing the war for stable lands. But as Maglor looked closer he began to notice specifics about this group. He noticed the women and children were walking while the men rode. The men were swarthy and covered in great beards and the furs they offered for trade were black. The pelts of wolves. Black wolves of the north, from Lothlann. _Easterlings from Lothlann, that is why she is afraid._ Maglor bristled and called Goweston over to him.

"What do they seek." He spoke in Quenya and could hear the enmity ring clear in his voice. If Goweston noticed he showed nothing.

"They wish to trade and have horses that need to be reshod. I was about to allow them through, would you prefer . . ." he trailed off at the end and waited for his lord to tell him. Maglor stared coolly at the group before him. Several turned away but the man Goweston had been talking to stared back at Maglor briefly, until he too began to shift with uncertainty under the elven lord's gaze, eventually looking away.

"Bring the farrier and have their horses reshod then send them on their way. We have no need for anything they have." Maglor swept past the group with Evon in tow and several of the group lowered their heads as he went by. Evon broke off from him as they reached the main doors and ran to his mother who threw a nervous look back over her shoulder as she gathered her son and followed Maglor inside.

Later that evening Maglor sat in his chamber next to the open window. Until they were in the peak of the warm season evenings remained relatively cool and pleasant. Maglor enjoyed leaving the windows open to catch the night air. Sometimes he would look to the skies for the light of Gil-Estel, although he knew it was no star. He took some small comfort in knowing it was out of harm and temptation's way and safe from those who would covet it. _A beacon of the glory days of the house of Fëanor till the end of time_, he thought caustically. He swirled the wine in his glass. It was a very dry wine and went with his mood. Maedhros's actions had made him very reflective over the last few months and the peredhil's absence left him with much time to ponder. He heard what sounded like thunder in the distance but when he felt the vibration through the floor he knew it was not one of the seasonal storms that rolled through this time of the season. He sat still and waited it out and it was over almost as quickly as it began. This land would be torn to shreds in the end and he would not mourn. He was sick of war and he despised those jewels. He wished with every ounce of his being that they would be destroyed along with the rest of this land and the memories that haunted it. _So many gone now_. He closed his eyes, willing is mind to forget. It was getting easier to do with time. He must have dozed because he did not hear the door to his room open and the little feet that padded in, only taking notice when he felt the pressure of something climbing up onto his lap. He opened his eyes in surprise.

"Well hello little one," he said with a smile and adjusted the boy so they could both be more comfortable. Maglor looked down at the boy.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Evon nuzzled against Maglor's chest and began to play with a lock of his hair.

"Can't sleep," he said, "the ground was growling again."

"Ah, you were afraid?"

"No . . . maybe."

Maglor smiled and placed a finger under the child's chin, gently pulling his face up so he could see him. "You should not fear, do you not remember what I told you when you first came here?"

"I am not afraid of the growling," Evon said looking at Maglor his large, sleepy eyes. "I am afraid of falling into the ocean."

Maglor gave him a playfully surprised look. "The ocean?"

"Yes, when the dragons come the ground will shake and fall into the ocean." Maglor's brow furrowed slightly at the sincerity of his tone.

"What makes you say this?"

"Elrond told me."

"Elrond said this to you?" The look on Maglor's face was not as playful this time.

"Well no," Evon looked back down, as if he had been caught doing something he should not. "He told Elros but I could hear him."

Maglor looked away. When Elrond was younger he would run to Maglor terrified of images that he would see in his mind. He would speak of things that seemed strange and incredible to Maglor. At first he spoke of wars and battles which were not very surprising given the circumstances of his coming to stay with the brothers. But then he spoke dreams about rings and a maiden who was chained, of Maedhros surrounded by fire and Maglor trapped by the sea. He said he saw men who could wield magic and dragons hoarding treasures. And he had spoken of a great battle that would rend the world in half. Maglor would calm him down as best he could, but he could not help but consider if any of it could have real meaning or if they were just dreams. Eventually they stopped, either that or Elrond was able to cope with them now. Maglor never asked. He looked back down at Evon.

"You should not listen to other's conversations Evon." The child laid his head back against Maglor and resumed playing with a lock of his hair.

"I am sorry," he said and let out a very large yawn while rubbing his eyes.

"Come," said Maglor, "I will take you to your mother. She will be worried if she finds you missing."

"She is not here." Maglor froze.

"What."

"She is not here. She went out." Evon relaxed into Maglor's chest and closed his eyes. "I think she lost something outside. She is trying to find it."

Maglor turned and looked out the window. A litany of swear words directed towards his brother coursed through his mind.

* * *

~oOo~

_She never turned when he rode up even though she had to have heard him. _

"_It is dangerous to be out here alone Saeran." _

"_I know."_

"_I would prefer to be indoors."_

"_Then go."_

_I should go, he thought. This is not my concern, damn it Maitimo._

"_Forgive me," she said, "I should not have said . . ."_

"_This is not of your doing."_

"_I know," she said. "It is his."_

_Maglor said nothing. He had no words. She turned to him and spoke_

"_He has made his intentions clear. I will not be the reason why he feels he cannot return to his home. I will leave with my son with the next group who passes through on their way to Ered Luin. We will seek haven with Gil-Galad's people and trouble him no more." _

_Her words hung in the air between them for several moments before Maglor spoke. _

"_As you wish. Although it saddens me greatly to see the two of you go." He realized he meant it. They walked back together in silence._

* * *

~oOo~

Saeran wiped the tears from her face for what she hoped would be the last time. When she had woke the next morning Maedhros could barely look at her. He had forced her to sit as his fingers gently probed along her neck, carefully searching for any unseen hurt. She had tried to reassure him she was fine but she could see the pain in his eyes and felt his guilt through their bond. She had held his face in her hands. She kissed his head, his eyes, the corners of his mouth, and begged him to stop this torment. He gave her a sad smile, kissed her deeply and left. A fortnight went by and she did not see him. And then another fortnight after that, and another after that and still nothing. She would reach out for her bond and could not feel him. He was there, of that she was aware, but his heart felt . . . cut off. Unreachable and closed off to her. Something had gone up in some way, keeping her out. She knew he was alive and still connected to her but the emotion, the responsiveness; the thrill was just . . . gone.

Saeran had tried not to become concerned at first. He would not forsake her; she believed this with all of her heart. And so she waited and watched for him. She sent her love through the bond every day, waiting for him to return to her for in the beginning she truly believed he would. But the days and nights continued to go by without any signs. When Saeran would casually inquire with Maglor of Maedhros's return he would become vague and his face veiled of all expression. But when she learned that the twins had started leaving at random times to meet Thannor, their comings and goings always shrouded in mystery she knew. She became despondent upon learning that. She would cry into the night and begged the heavens to bring him back. She knew that he was far better at controlling the bond and discerning the myriad of emotions that would course through it. How could he not feel her sadness? How could he just turn away from her pain? She wandered at night on to the property and to Dannil's hill, desperate for some sign of his presence. But he never came and if he felt anything she never knew. It was then that the anger set in. Now, she was becoming bitter. Now she was just pissed.

Several days went by where she would rage into the bond, sending out her anger and bitterness at her circumstance. How could he? Why would he do this? Was everything he said a lie? She was nothing more than temporary distraction from the daily toils of his very long life. She began to feel shame, she began to feel dirty. She would venture out and shout her anger into the night, cursing at him for his callowness and her weakness until she dragged herself back exhausted. And then one night she went out to Dannil's hill and felt nothing. The anger, the sadness, the loss, she had become too numb to feel anything anymore. She could no longer live this way. She would no longer live this way. It was on this night Maglor had found her and she made her decision. She would not touch at the bond again and she would leave Amon Ereb as soon as she could.

It took a week for the next caravan to come through and since Maglor had provided Saeran with a small wagon and a pony there were no objections to her joining them. They would follow the river Gelion north to the dwarven road through the mountains and then make their way to the settlements of Ered Luin or Lindon as they were now being called. She did not take many of the belongings they had acquired during their stay. She could have helped herself to anything but only requested a few items. She asked for food of course, some of the twin's old tunics and breeches for traveling and a weapon. Yes, this time she would most certainly travel with a weapon. Maglor gave her two, a crossbow and an elven dagger. Hestil had given her supplies as well and wept great amounts of tears when it came time for her to depart. Even her friends from the kitchens had come out to say good bye, each giving her a bundle. They had been surprised when she grabbed each one in turn and gave them a hug. But her friend who had had the tray of glasses embraced her back and whispered in her ear.

"Tenna enta lúmë."

And so they left and traveled late into the night until the leader of the group, a man called Cormick, felt they could go no further. Several of the men had conferred and felt they were close enough to the road to stop in relative safety, and they set camp upon reaching the river. Something Maglor had said to her about the dwarven road scratched at her in the back of her mind but she pushed it aside. Saeran was tired and sore and Evon was irritable. He was very upset with her about leaving and protested vocally when he found out he would not even be able to tell the twins good bye. It broke Saeran's heart to see him say is farewells to Maglor. He tried not to cry which seemed to only make things worse. Making the gulping sounds that come when trying to stifle your tears.

The caravan moved slowly and night fell before they could make the road so they had to make do. There were enough in this group that Saeran felt safe with stopping. They pulled the few wagons they had in to a circular formation and had the women and children sleep in the middle while the men kept watch. Sleep came sporadically and Saeran found herself up most of the night. Which was perhaps why she was able to detect the first signs of trouble. Evon lay on the ground sleeping under the wagon when she woke again. Something pulled her from her rest and she was unsure of what. Something familiar though and troubling. The night had gone quiet with only the occasion stomp or snort of one of the ponies. She looked around and saw one of the other women laying on her back with eyes wide and watching the top of the wagons. When she looked up she saw several of the men alert and staring into the dark. Something had their attention and Saeran feared to find out what. She slowly reached across to her satchel and took out the elven dagger and tied it to her waist. She then grabbed the crossbow, placed her foot in the stirrup, pulled back the string and loaded a bolt to fire. She gently prodded Evon awake, placing her hand over his mouth and a finger to her lips so he would not make any noise. He was confused at first but then his eyes widened and he looked at her with fear. She sat him up and had him hunch under the wagon next to the wheel. Her heart was beginning to pound in her chest.

"You are to stay right here," she whispered. "When I tell you too or if I should fall you are to make for the forest as fast as you can, do you understand?" He stared at her wide eyed. "_Do you_?!" she hissed. He nodded slowly. "Good. Do not move."

She turned back and looked up at the backs of the men who peered in to the night. Slowly she raised herself so she could see where they watched. Right as she came to eye level with the top of the wagon she heard a whistling sound buzz past her ear and a surprised gasp from one of the men on the wagon. From that point on, everything seemed to happen simultaneously. Cormick yelled out and one of the men fell into the center of the wagon circle clutching at the thick black shaft that protruded from his leg. The horses reared and tried to pull from their restraints and the other woman who was awake began screaming.

The first orc leapt through the air over the wagons at the men atop of them and it was not long before it was joined by more. The men had put themselves between the orcs and the wagons and were fighting them off fiercely. The woman's screams had awaken the rest of the group and several women began grabbing children and scurrying under the wagons for cover. Saeran and a few others grabbed weapons and made themselves ready if any should get past, which they did.

The first one that got through Saeran was able to bring down quickly with the crossbow. A second was brought down as she was reloading by a young girl with her own short bow. The third one received Saeran's bolt in its chest, but when she saw another directly behind it she knew she would not be able to reload in time. As it flew through the air at her she swung the crossbow at it with everything she had, knocking it off balance to the side where several women jumped on it and began beating it with whatever they had. Saeran looked back just in time to see another orc swing a mace at her head, she was able to get herself back some but not before it was able to land a partial blow. Her vision exploded into a thousand stars and intense pain shot through her arm where she blocked most of the hit. Dizzy and almost blind with pain she pulled the knife from its sheath around her waist and turned to defend herself from imminent attack. Only when she turned, instead of finding a mace coming towards her, she saw the orc who attacked her looking at its own chest in confusion, plucking at the long arrow shaft that stuck out of it. Saeran looked around and saw riders on horseback attacking and chasing orcs from the wagons, striking them down where they ran. The orc in front of Saeran suddenly realized that the odds had quickly turned against them and tried to make his escape under the wagons when she leapt on him. She drove her knife into its neck and twisted, its screams becoming drowned gurgling sounds in the back of what was left of its throat. When it had finally stopped kicking, she pulled the knife out of the beast's neck and looked up at the night sky. Saeran closed her eyes and listened to the shouts of the men. Her heart was racing and something warm was running down her face. She was dazed and felt a hand on her shoulder and when she looked she saw her son staring at her. She grabbed him and pulled him tightly to her and found the strength she needed. She pulled back and looked at her son.

"Are you alright?" she asked hastily looking him over for any signs of injury.

"Yes," he whispered and looked at the orc that Saeran sat astride. She pulled him to her once more and kissed his head.

"I want you to climb up in the wagon and stay there till I say it is safe, yes?" He continued to stare at the orc. "Evon, do you understand? Get in the wagon and stay there until I tell you to come out." He looked at her and nodded. She picked him up and carried him to their wagon. She then went back to the center of the circle to retrieve her crossbow and walked out into the night. She saw Cormick talking to someone and was able to ascertain that there were no fatalities on their part, which gave Saeran great relief. As she continued to look around she saw the horses had scattered and saw the pony Maglor had given her at the edge of the clearing by the tree line. She sheathed her knife and made her way over to it. It skittered some at first but she was able to grab the halter and calm it with some soothing words. She leaned her head against the mare's neck and gathered her wits again. _Everyone is alive, _she thought._ Everyone is alive and we are safe._

"Saeran?"

She opened her eyes at the sound of her name. The voice was familiar and she turned to see who was calling her. A young man approached her from the dark.

"Saeran?" he said again. She looked at him and realized he was not of Man but an elf.

"Saeran, it is you!" Elrond quickly walked over to her. "What . . . how? Elros!" he called. Saeran stared at the young elf who stared back at her in disbelief. When Elros loped up she started to laugh. Elrond grabbed Saeran and began to look at the cut to her head, nimble fingers searching through her hair for further injury.

"Saeran is Evon alright?" Elrond asked gently. "Where is Evon?" Still laughing, Saeran nodded yes and pointed to the wagon where Evon sat.

"Saeran!" Elros cried. "What are you doing out here? You are hurt! Where is Evon? Maedhros? Maedhros!"

"Elros stay with her. I am going to get wrappings." Elrond dashed off into the dark. As Saeran watched Elrond leave she saw another figure emerge from the shadows. Elrond stopped to say something to the figure and pointing back at them before he continued on his way. The figure turned toward where Saeran and Elros stood and paused only for a moment before it began to make its way over. But she knew who it was before he ever got close for the air became electric and a familiar heat coursed through her person. Elros stared at her dumbfounded.

"Saeran," Elros said in bewilderment, "are you wearing my old breeches?"

Saeran just laughed and laughed.

* * *

~oOo~

Quenya

Tenna enta lúmë – until that time


	13. Chapter 13

This should have been part of the last chapter but I was afraid it would be too long.

As usual I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

* * *

~oOo~

_She was still laughing when he walked up. She wiped the tears off of her face. Was she laughing so hard she was crying or was she crying so hard it sounded like laughing? She did not know anymore, so she simply wiped the tears from her face. She leaned back against the little mare and stared at the two elves before her. She could feel him again. The bond pulsed with his presence and she drank it in as one starved. He was too close to hide now, and she was too close to ignore. She looked him directly in the eye. The light of a thousand stars and the dark fire blazed wildly back at her, a fire that had so willingly consumed her so many times before, swallowing her whole. She did not flinch. She steeled herself, closing herself off. _Consume that_, she thought bitterly._

* * *

~oOo~

Maedhros knelt down and gestured behind him. Elrond and Elros silently came up and knelt down beside him. Without speaking he pointed to the markings on the ground, the peredhil studied them and then together pointed in the direction that the tracks led off to. Maedhros nodded and the peredhil continued to track the pack of orcs through the trees. It was not a large pack and Maedhros felt secure in allowing the twins to track and assist in taking them down. He went back to where Thannor and the rest of his men waited. He leaped on to Ectheldoth and they followed as the peredhil tracked. Elrond and Elros had learned much since joining Maedhros, and he felt no small amount of pride at their accomplishments. Plus, it was the justification he needed to remain out here, hiding in the wild.

The men were growing restless. They would remain as long as he did of course; they had already followed him through so much this small band that remained and would not desert him now simply because they desired a bath. But it was not fair to force upon them unnecessary discomfort because of his cowardice. After this pack was exterminated he would allow them to return to the keep. The bond had been quiet lately. He had not felt anything for several days, which was quite a difference considering the intense range of emotions that battered at his resolve for many nights. She felt herself scorned and used for another's entertainment. That had angered him. Many times he found himself outside of the keep trying to get to her before he would realize what he was doing. One night he had even seen her as she knelt weeping, her anger lashing out at him, striking at his very being. Still he stayed away. It had to be done. She would understand in time. Macalaurë called him a melodramatic fool and Maedhros could not help but think that most times he was right.

Maedhros stopped Ectheldoth abruptly. Something was not right and he could not place what it was. It was familiar though and troubling. Thannor pulled his horse up next to Maedhros and looked to him, waiting. A sudden apprehension came over Maedhros and lightly he reached out and barely touched the bond. Awareness flooded his senses. Fear and terror and the rapid rhythm of her heart startled him and he made a soft hissing sound as he sucked the air in through his teeth. Thannor opened his mouth to speak but the peredhil came running up at that moment.

"We found another set of tracks!" Elros said breathlessly.

"They are following a caravan headed for the naugrim road," said Elrond as he came up behind them. "They will catch them easily."

The sense of dread that had been following Maedhros intensified; he waited for the peredhil to mount the horses and spurred into the night.

Once they came across the caravan tracks the chase became easier for there were wagons and people on foot. The tracks were leading towards the river where they more than likely made camp. He cursed to himself. Did not Macalaurë tell them to make the road in haste? Why did they _always_ stop? But that was not the main source of his consternation. The bond, that had been so silent for so long, that had been nothing more than a dull throbbing in the back of his mind, felt as if it were pounding against his consciousness. He spurred Ectheldoth on harder and drew his sword. The whispery cold shing of steel sliding on steel rang out behind him and he knew his men were doing the same. They heard the battle first. The familiar sound of metal striking metal, the cries of the men and the screams of the women and children, the high pitched squeals of orcs. And as they rode up on them Maedhros could see that the men were holding them off but some were still able to get past the barricade of wagons that protected their women and children. An arrow whizzed past Maedhros's head from somewhere behind him and struck its target right as they joined the fray. It was over with relatively quickly. The orcs scattered almost immediately but his men hunted them down one by one and dragged their carcasses back to the clearing to burn.

Maedhros found the leader of the group and sent Thannor over to him as he assessed the damage. There did not appear to be any fatalities on their end but there were wounded. Maedhros found himself looking at every face that went past him. He began to feel somewhat calm again, chiding himself for his panic. It was his desire to see her that was all, she is not here. He turned to go back to where Thannor stood. Elros's voice rang out in the dark.

"Maedhros? Maedhros!"

Maedhros froze. He slowly turned around to see Elros and Elrond across the clearing near the tree line. They were standing over someone. From here the figure could have been easily mistaken for a young boy but Maedhros knew better. He began to walk towards the twins when Elrond broke away and rushed towards him.

"Saeran is over there wounded and Evon is in one of the wagons," he said in disbelief. "I am going to get dressings for her wounds and fetch Evon." He ran off into the dark towards the wagons. Maedhros turned back to where Elros stood. He hesitated a moment before he went over. Anger mixed with relief rushed around inside of him causing him to almost feel ill. She stood holding on to a little mare, a crossbow in one hand and a knife strapped to her waist. She wore boy's breeches and tunic and her left arm was bleeding and there was a cut to her head. She stood there looking at him, laughing. He stopped in front of her bloody hysterical visage. He wanted to grab her, to shake her, to hold her, to run away from her. He could not make up his mind at the moment so all of them would do. Seeing her again was more painful than he anticipated. He wanted to beg her forgiveness and knew he would never deserve it. She stood tall in front of him, her head high. His little warrior. It did not take him touching the bond to know that this was going to be difficult. So he looked away and said nothing. Elrond returned just then with Evon and handed him to Elros so he could tend to her wounds. While her attention was turned to what Elrond was doing Maedhros looked at her and reached out through the bond and felt . . . she felt . . . hidden. She was there, she would always be there but he could not make out her thoughts or what she was feeling. She had shut him out. Her head snapped up and she glared at him. Maedhros took as step back as if he had been struck. She shook off Elrond and stood up.

"I am fine." She looked at Elrond and saw the look of surprise on his face and immediately felt regret. "Forgive me Elrond, but I am fine." She reached out her hand for Evon to take. He looked to Elros and hesitated. "Evon," she said. He took his mother's hand and they headed to the wagons. Maedhros watched her leave and then he turned and walked over to Thannor. Elrond and Elros looked at each other faces unreadable.

"No fatalities, but two of Cormick's men and one of the women have sustained injuries that will require more extensive care," Thannor reported to Maedhros. "All of the children and elders are fine, minor bruises only."

"Prepare an escort for those who can carry on to the naugrim's road. We will load the injured into wagons to take back to the keep. They can receive the care they need there till they can travel. They will be assisted to the road as well when ready." Maedhros turned to Cormick. "Is this acceptable to you?" Cormick nodded.

"Thank you m'lord. I would ask if I may travel with the wounded. My wife is one."

"As you wish." He turned to Thannor. "Prepare to move. We return to the keep."

Saeran led the little mare to her wagon and began to go about hitching her back up. Maedhros walked over to her.

"What do you think you are doing." It was not a question.

Saeran said nothing and simply continued hitching up her horse.

"This wagon is returning to the keep."

"This wagon will continue on to the dwarf road–"

"It is needed to carry wounded."

"- and then on to the road through the mountains–"

"You are hurt."

"- and from there on to Lindon."

"You are returning to the keep as well."

"_You do not get to tell me what to do_!" Saeran's words cut through the night like a knife and she emphasized it with her finger poking into his chest. Everyone within earshot came to a halt and stared in shock at this woman with the audacity speak in such a manner to the lord who had just saved them. Elrond and Elros appeared on the peripheral and waited. Maedhros considered her, his face the very picture of elven neutrality. But Saeran knew better, and she smiled when she saw the muscle in his jaw twitch. The air between them seemed as if it would ignite at any moment. Saeran slowly and belligerently turned her back to him and continued on with her task. Maedhros's head tilted slightly as he looked at her and then, moving so quickly that one would question that he even moved at all, he reached out and snatched her arm and began dragging her away from the wagon. Saeran cried out in protest and immediately put up a fight, struggling with him. If it hindered Maedhros in any way, no one could tell. He simply pulled her over to his horse and tossed her up onto Ectheldoth like so much baggage and then leapt up behind her. She kicked and squirmed and almost managed to wriggle her way down as he was mounting but he simply grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and sat her back down in front of him. He placed his hand over her mouth to muffle her protests and restrained her against him as he spoke.

"Elros, Elrond," he called, "take Evon to ride with you and come with me. Thannor, clear enough space within _that_ wagon to carry wounded back to the keep. Nidthor, you, Indóion, and Aethonnen will accompany those who are carrying on to the road. The rest of you will assist Thannor." Saeran's muffled cries became increasingly agitated and she punched and kicked at him, causing Ectheldoth to do a little sidestep and look back curiously at the commotion. She bit down on Maedhros's hand but if it bothered him he showed nothing. He pulled her head back so he could whisper in her ear.

"You are hurt and are returning with me whether you wish it or not. You will stop this foolishness or so help me by the light, I will bind your hands and feet and carry you like chattel to the keep. Do you understand?"

Saeran stopped struggling and nodded yes and Maedhros slowly removed his hand. He noted the look she gave him was deadly and he pulled her close and held her tightly to him in case she should make another attempt at escape. But in his heart he knew that he did not hold her so close just to make sure she did not try to get away.

Saeran for her part remained still but held herself stiffly against him. But as they rode on at a slow pace for the wagons, Vása rose up in the eastern sky and she began to grow weary. Eventually she relaxed into him and began to drift asleep. For a brief moment Maedhros was able to almost cradle her as her head began to loll back on his shoulder, her face against his neck, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head. But then she would wake and snap back to attention, refusing the intimacy of willing contact only to succumb to exhaustion yet again. But the closer they came to the keep the more she remained awake and as they approached the main gate, she had started to struggle again. Horns announced their arrival and they rode up to the main entrance. Saeran had intensified her struggling to get away from him now so he decided to give her what she wished. He removed his hand from her and held his arm up in the air. Saeran, who was still attempting to get away from him did not anticipate this and fell unceremoniously to the ground in a heap. Saeran gasped and looked up at Maedhros who stared down at her briefly before turning away and guiding Ectheldoth towards the stables. And while his face had been carefully serene, in that brief glance she had seen the amusement in his eyes and her composure snapped. He had professed his love and then spurned her for no reason. He had possessed her for his own selfish needs and then abandoned her. And when she finally found the resolve to leave this place and survive on her own; he appears out of nowhere to drag her back and then _laughs_ at her. She was tired, she was sore, and now thanks to him she was back where she started.

Saeran felt the white heat of rage burn its way up from her gut to her eyes and let out a roar of indignation. As she jumped to her feet she grabbed at a clump of dirt and threw it at Maedhros, hitting him square in the back. Ectheldoth skittered slightly and Maedhros pulled him to a stop, not moving. His sitting there with his back to her only infuriated her even more and she grabbed yet another handful and threw it, hitting him in the back yet again. It was not till she reached down to grab more that she picked up on the smell and realized it was not dirt she was throwing. All movement in the courtyard stopped, Elros and Elrond watched the exchange with wide eyes and even Thannor who had been riding alongside Maedhros looked shocked, mouth agape. Maedhros turned his head slightly so he could look over his shoulder at her. The look he gave her spoke volumes.

_Don't you dare._

Saeran heard his voice in her head. In her rage she had stopped concentrating on keeping him out and now the bond left her open to him. She felt his anger, his annoyance, and his hurt and she almost cried out in triumph. She squared herself against him and held her head up high, chin out in defiance. She looked down at the warm smelly handful. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

_Don't . . ._

She gave him a smug look and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

_You . . ._

She dug into the ground with her feet and pulled her arm back . . .

_Dare . . ._

. . . and threw, striking the center of the great silver star embroidered on his back like a bullseye. That was all it took. Maedhros leapt off his horse and strode over to where she stood. She started to reach down to get another handful to throw but he was on her before she could. She swung around to slap him but he caught her hand and in one swift movement slung her up and over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Saeran kicked and screamed, but Maedhros kept walking undeterred straight to the bath houses, kicked the doors open and stormed inside.

Maedhros burst into the bath house and made for the women's side. He stomped in, sending two young women scurrying for cover, and dumped Saeran into the water. She lurched up gasping for air and tried to get out only to be stopped by Maedhros and shoved back into the water. She thrashed in the water trying to strike but she was no match.

"Stop," he growled, trying to catch her flailing arms. She tried to crawl away from him and he grabbed her by her collar and pulled her back.

"I said," he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her hard against him, "_STOP_!"

Maedhros's voice bounced off the walls of the bath house and echoed throughout the room. But the silence that followed was far more deafening. They stood in the water, soaking wet and dripping, glaring at each other. Saeran's wet clothes clung to her body and her hair hung in long wet tendrils in her face. Maedhros was painfully aware of how her body felt against his, how close his face was to hers and he looked away.

"Stop acting like a child and clean yourself off. You are hurt and this is not helping. I will send Hestil and you _will_ let her help you."

He relaxed his grip but she did not move. Instead, she reached up and grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to look at her. She stared angrily into his eyes, hurt and confusion swirled through the bond.

"You left me," she whispered

"I did what was best. I had to . . . to save you, to keep you safe."

Saeran grabbed another fistful of air and looked in his eyes. It was what he did she realized, perhaps what he has always done. His entire life one sacrifice after another, always seeking to do what was right only to be met with tragedy and betrayal. She pulled him to her and kissed him hard upon the mouth. She pulled back and stared into him again.

"It was not your decision to make." She pushed away from him and waded to the edge of the pool and began to disrobe. "Go," she called over her shoulder. "I need to bathe." Maedhros watched for a moment as she began to undress and then turned and stepped out of the pool and left the bath house for the keep.

* * *

~oOo~

Maglor watched as his brother stormed into the bath house with a screaming and kicking Saeran hoisted over his shoulder. Maglor thought that he should intervene but Maedhros did just get his arse handed to him by an atani woman and decided that perhaps it would be better if they just worked it out between the two of them. Maglor felt something grab hold of his leg and saw Evon staring up at him. The peredhil followed close behind. Elrond entered the main hall and took a seat near the fire while Elros walked up to Maglor and embraced him. Maglor took Elros by the shoulders and held him at arm's length, giving him a concerned look. Elros smiled and shook his head.

"Does it still surprise you that I might actually be happy to see you from time to time?"

Maglor raised an eyebrow at him and bent down to scoop up Evon. The three of them walked over to where Elrond sat and took a seat themselves. Maglor was about to open his mouth to speak when the main doors to the hall suddenly burst open. Maedhros strode through main hall. He was frightening, fell, and soaking wet. The dark expression on his face was countered only by the sloshing sound of water in his boots as he stomped by without speaking a word. The four of them did not move or speak as Maedhros trudged by, leaving a trail of water in his wake. Maglor waited till his brother splashed his way out of the room and turned back to the twins.

"So," he said as he pulled Evon back onto his lap. "Tell me everything."


	14. Chapter 14

This is for **AngryCupcake**. Not exactly a resurrection but hopefully a brief flashback will do the trick. A very short chapter as it was not exactly planned. Thanks for the idea!

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

Abarussa - Amros & Amrod

Tyelkormo - Turko - Celegorm

Curufinwë - Curufin

Carnistir - Moryo - Caranthir

Telperinquar - Celebrimbor

Findekáno - Káno - Fingon

Findaráto - Finrod

Aikánaro - Aegnor

* * *

~oOo~

_Maglor looked at Maedhros and rolled his eyes._

"_They are at it again," he said. "And on this day of all days too." _

_Maedhros looked in the room at his brothers. Ambarussa sat in the corner, their complete disinterest in the scene playing out before them rivaled only by the lack of interest they had in coming to Himring in the first place. Curufinwë leaned against the desk in the corner smirking as Tyelkormo preened around Carnistir who stood staring out the window._

"_If you are not careful you will begin to pick up some of their more swarthy habits, you are already starting to smell like them." _

_This elicited laughter from Curufinwë who never ceased to enjoy tormenting Carnistir. They were mocking him about the atani again. He had assisted a tribe of Men on the outskirts of his lands near the mountains once and was impressed with what he saw. Impressed enough to talk to his brothers of the valor of men, and since he rarely talked at all without yelling Maedhros chose to listen. Carnistir had begun spending more and more time in those mountains with them, finding them worthy of teaching, saying that they were stubborn but eager to learn. Curufinwë however scoffed at this, finding them beneath his notice. And since Tyelkormo for whatever reason tended to follow his younger brother's lead, he taunted him now as well. Maedhros sighed. They did not have time for this. Carnistir's betrothal ceremony was tonight and soon Findekáno would be here along with his new born son. Káno has a son. The thought seemed so strange to him and was the words were bitter on his tongue. He shook it away; he had to deal with this first. _

"_Tell me brother, what are the women like? Are they capable of eating from a table or do they writhe in squalor, their children attached to their backs like animals. I would imagine they smell worse –"_

_Maedhros was about to put a stop to Tyelkormo's prattling when Carnistir spun around suddenly, his hand gripping his brother's coat near his throat._

"_Tell me Turko," he said coldly glancing around the room, "where is Huan?" _

_Well that did it. Tyelkormo turned six different shades of red and lunged at his brother. Maedhros stepped in and separated the two, yanking Tyelkormo back by his collar. Maglor went to Carnistir but he had already stopped struggling once Maedhros had Tyelkormo. Curufinwë glared daggers at his brother's while Ambarussa continued to idle in the corner._

"_That is enough. We do not have time for this. The ceremony is tonight and guests are arriving. We must –"_

"_Ceremony?!" Tyelkormo spat as he threw off Maedhros's hand. "I will not be attending any ceremony much less greeting guests. Especially those who belonging to a house of an unlawful king and his mewling grandson, equally undeserving of the throne!" _

"_I take it that you will not be joining us then."_

"_You can take it however you wish Nelyo," he hissed, "is that not how you normally like it?"_

"_Turko!" exclaimed Maglor and moved to intercept his brother but Maedhros stayed him with a raise of is hand. Maedhros said nothing, only stood over his brother. Tyelkormo remained defiant for his part at first but Maedhros's eyes overpowered his brothers bluster and pierced him. Maedhros could see the shame and regret in his brother's eyes and Tyelkormo broke his gaze first and stormed out of the room. Maglor turned to Curufinwë._

"_I suppose it is safe to assume that you will be riding his coattails where ever he goes yes?" Curufinwë said nothing as he looked at Maglor disdainfully and stalked out of the room. "That is what I thought." Maglor looked at Carnistir who had turned back to the window and then turned to Ambarussa._

"_Come along you two and try to contain yourselves." Ambarussa languidly rose from where they sat and followed Maglor out of the room. _

_Maedhros turned and walked over to the window and stood next to Carnistir. They fought so much lately. Tyelkormo and Curufinwë's behavior of late had been a great cause of concern for him especially. Tonight was not just about Carnistir's betrothal. Maedhros had called together a meeting of many of the houses of the Noldor and representatives from the dwarves and the tribes of Men to set forth a proposition that would call for the unification of all the races of Beleriand for it to be successful. But Tyelkormo and Curufinwë's reckless actions had threatened everything he had worked for. There were times when he was unsure of who they even were anymore. Even Telperinquar had forsaken his father and gone to Orodreth's people. What had happened? Maedhros sighed and looked at Carnistir. He was wearing all black as usual. He would not break with that habit even for his betrothal ceremony. He was about to leave when Carnistir spoke. _

"_They underestimate them. They cannot see past their own wounded pride to the potential that is there. They cannot see that they were beaten by a worthier opponent."_

"_Is your faith in the second born truly so strong?" Carnistir turned and looked at Maedhros, his eyes lit with the intensity of his words._

"_There is strength there Maitimo. Yes there is weakness but there is also strength and beauty. It is raw and uncut but there is beauty. Not restrained and repressed like many of our own people. When they feel they act upon it with passion and fire. Perhaps it is because their lives are so fleeting that they live so frantically and love so furiously." His eyes took on a faraway look and he spoke almost to himself, lost in some memory. "Strength and beauty and a love so true it would have rivaled any of the Eldar." _

_Maedhros looked at his brother and heard the loss in his voice as he spoke. There was a time when Maedhros could look into his brother's eyes and see her there, a light in in his brother's eyes that interweaved with his own. He could see their bond. His voice had taken on a strange synergic quality as well and Maedhros had always been surprised that Maglor's keen ears had never picked up on it. But Maedhros always knew, he who had raised six younger brothers. He had answered their cries when they woke from nightmares in the dark and soothed their hurts from skinned knees and a variety of other injuries. He knew them well. And he knew Carnistir had been happy then, at least as happy as Carnistir could be anyway. But now his voice was empty and his eyes now possessing but a single mournful light. Gently he took his brother by the shoulders and turned him around to face him. Carnistir stiffened when Maedhros touched him but allowed him to turn him around. Carnistir said nothing, only looked at Maedhros, waiting. Maedhros reached up and straightened his brother's collar where it had become undone from his altercation with Tyelkormo. _

"_You know, Findaráto said much of the same once." Maedhros glanced at his brother who stared at him in that haughty imperious way of his. "It is said that Aikánaro even loved an atani woman, though he never took her to wife."_

_Carnistir sniffed in disdain at that. "Aikánaro was a coward, nothing more."_

_Maedhros looked at him curiously as he arranged his brother's overcoat. "He was a coward because he did not take her to wife?"_

"_He was a coward because he was too frightened to embrace that which he knew he would lose. He was protecting himself from the pain of her eventual end."_

_Maedhros took a step back and looked at his brother. "You are too harsh Carnistir. It is the fate of our kindreds to be sundered. That bliss is fleeting for such is the Gift of Man."_

"_If it is the Gift of Man to face inevitable death, then it is the doom of the Eldar to face life eternal, woefully holding on to the memories of what once was. I for one will welcome death when it finds me for it will be a release from the emptiness of my loss." _

"_Is that such a bad thing, to want to avoid pain?"_

"_Life is pain Nelyo. You of all of us should know this. The bliss of ecstasy balanced on a thin line between pleasure and pain. You cannot embrace one without the other. And in these times they are almost one and the same. Aikanaro chose never know what it is to love or to be loved to avoid the inevitability of losing it, but if you do not fear losing it then what is it worth? I would not turn from it. I would not scorn something so pure and inviolable. Even though the pain will follow me till the end of days I reveled in the moment, even if only for a little while."_

"_Then it is fortunate that you have found Iphandis," said Maedhros and Carnistir started and the sound of that name, as if reminded of some chore that must get done._

"_Iphandis, yes," he said absentmindedly and turned to leave, "it is fortunate."_

"_Moryo," Maedhros called out suddenly and Carnistir looked back, his haughty demeanor returned, "you were happy then yes? In the mountains, during that time, were you happy?"_

_The question must have not been what his brother was expecting because he blinked in surprise when Maedhros asked. But then his face softened and his gaze seemed to go inward, recalling some memory that had been tucked away. And for the first time in what Maedhros thought had been years and for the last time that Maedhros would ever be able to remember, Carnistir smiled._

"_Yes Russandol. I was."_

* * *

~oOo~

Saeran sat in the bath house pool till her fingers shriveled and her teeth began to chatter. She was getting sore now. The adrenaline of the nights and day's events was wearing off and an ache was all over her person and her arm had begun to throb. A giant, angry purple and blue bruise had formed where the orc's mace had partially connected with her arm. Things were starting to become painful. And yet still she stayed. She stayed till Hestil peeked her head around the corner and then entered carrying a bundle of clothes and dressings. Saeran looked up at Hestil and felt her eyes start to well up. Hestil set down the bundle she carried and rushed to Saeran and embraced her where she sat.

"Oh lissë hína, shhhh," she soothed, "it is alright. You will be alright." She held Searan, rocking her back and forth while she sobbed. Eventually Hestil pulled Saeran up out of the tub and helped her dress. As they walked over to the house of healing Saeran noticed how many in the courtyard avoided looking at her. She began to feel embarrassed about her behavior and dreaded returning to the keep. She imagined that word would spread quickly about her unseemly behavior. Hestil seated Saeran by the fire and laid a blanket on her lap. She gave Saeran another once over before resuming her work. The injured from last night's raid were already set up inside. Cormick sat near his wife who looked to be sleeping peacefully. Saeran recognized her as the woman who was awake with Saeran when the orcs first came. One of the injured men sat up with his arm in a splint while the other lay still. Janneth and Kady bustled around the room. The combination of the warmth of the fire and the balms that Hestil had given her suddenly made her feel very tired. Her eyes grew heavy and try as she might, she could not keep them open. Her mind flitted in and out of consciousness, the occasional awareness of movement around her and soft voices whispering barely audible enough for her to hear. A one point she felt the sensation of being lifted and carried. She dreamt of strong arms cradling her, she dreamt she felt the rhythmic pulse of a heart beat as she buried her face into his neck. She knew who it was, even in her dreams she always knew him. She brought her hand up around his neck and felt the pulse quicken. She floated now, drifting weightless to the steady drumbeat of the pulse that fluttered lightly against her cheek. She wished she could be the source, the reason for that heartbeat. _You are, _the voice whispered in her mind and she was surrounded by stars and silver light embraced her. She floated down and felt herself become grounded again, something soft and feather light brushed across the lids of her eyes and lingered a moment on her lips. The light that had enveloped her began to fade and she wanted to cry out as it dimmed. She did not want it to go and pleaded for its return, grasping at nothing. The light blazed forth and surrounded her, and she prayed it would not leave her again. _Never again, _the voice caressed her back to calm. _Never again._ She opened her arms and let the light take her into the restfulness of deep sleep.

When Saeran woke, the sun was at its zenith. The pains she had felt yesterday had reduced itself to the dull ache of muscles that did not wished to be used. She sent her arms out into a slow stretch and could tell by the way her body brushed against the sheets she was in a bed and not one of the cots of the healing house. She was not in the house of healing at all, she was in the keep. More specifically she was in her room at the keep. She lay there and took in the familiar surroundings and had to wonder of the events of the last few days were not but a dream. But when she sat up, her head throbbed in protest and she saw the dressings on her arm and knew. The memories flooded her mind and she found herself becoming somewhat horrified at her behavior. Had she truly thrown and handful of . . . well, she was not really horrified at her behavior per say. When one thought about it, he had it coming. But she was horrified that she had behaved that way in front of her child and a courtyard of people. She was embarrassed by their public display like some petty lover's spat. _Lover's spat_, she thought. _Are we even lovers anymore_? Tentatively she reached out for the bond felt the surge of its presence. It almost overwhelmed her as it flooded her senses. It coursed through her and she wrapped her arms around herself in some vain attempt to hold it. Gone was the murky dull awareness that had kept him hidden from her. The bond pulsed and his white silvery light filled everything. But as much as she relished the feeling she still remained on defensive. Who knew if he would leave again. She knew he was close and rose from the bed for her dressing robe. As she pushed her arms through the sleeves she heard a voice from the attached courtyard. She walked to the small outer room that connected her room to the courtyard and looked outside as she pulled her hair out from under her robe.

Maglor lay on his side on the ground propped up on an elbow as Evon leaned back against him. They were facing Elros who also sat on the ground as they played a game of Castles. A silly game that seemed to only consist of knocking down the other's structure. Evon was looking at Maglor who casually pointed to a piece that Evon then gleefully pushed down. Elros threw his arms in the air and made accusations of cheating and fixed games as Evon laughed even harder. In the back of the courtyard on a bench sat Elrond and Maedhros, both hunched over a chess set, elbows on knees and chins in hand as they contemplated the board. Saeran walked to the doorway and looked at the scene in the courtyard and for a brief moment was able to shut out the horrors of the world around them. There was no war, no monsters in the night, there was only this and it was perfect.

Maedhros looked up from the chess board briefly and stared at Saeran as she stood in the doorway. She was rested and her color had returned. Her hair was unbound and fell across her shoulders and the familiar heat he always felt when in her presence came to him. She had called to out for him last as she slipped in and out of consciousness and he thought his heart would leap from his chest with joy. He had brought her to her room and felt her as she desperately reached for him through the bond and so he stayed, his hope rekindled that he could make amends. But now that she was awake he felt her defenses raise and he knew there was still more he would have to do. Elrond had looked up from the chess board and looked over to what held Maedhros's gaze. He looked back at the game and moved his queen across the board, setting it down with a click that brought Maedhros's attention back to the game. Elrond leaned back and looked at Maedhros.

"Check," he said with a small smile of satisfaction. "It is your move."

Maedhros raised an eyebrow at the peredhil, his own little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Indeed," he said and reached for his king.


	15. Chapter 15

For your enjoyment. Would love to get some feedback! Please read and review. Thanks!

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

* * *

~oOo~

Maglor looked at his brother with concern. Maedhros sat slumped in the chair in Maglor's room. He was not sleeping, he was not eating. _He looks like shit_, Maglor thought.

"Maitimo, really, how long will you continue like this?"

Maedhros dropped his head back and looked up at the ceiling. "As long as I am allowed to I suppose Macalaurë."

"And what if she should decide that she still wants to leave? Then what?" Maedhros said nothing, simply continued to stare at the ceiling. "What if she decides to stay? Have you thought about that?"

"I think about that every day."

"She is second-born Maitimo."

"Yes Macalaurë."

"She will grow old . . ."

"I know Macalaurë."

". . . and she will die while you remain."

"Yes Macalaurë," Maedhros hissed as his head snapped up to look at his brother. "Do you believe that I do not know this? That I had not thought of this, questioning the wisdom of such actions before? Do not mistake me for some foolish boy who ruts up against anything with warmth. I have weighed the risk and know I am found wanting. I have lost everyone I have ever loved, doomed everything I have ever touched, and failed at everything I have tried to do. Everyone who has ever followed me has fallen simply because they –"

Maedhros stopped suddenly and leaned forward, turning away from Maglor and looking behind him towards the door. Maglor walked up to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling his attention back to him.

"I know what you have lost Nelyo," he said as he looked in his brother's eyes. "I know the emptiness you carry. And I know more than anyone the comfort a bond of love can bring. But I also know the pain of that loss as well. And whether she stays or if she leaves, you will still be parted from her for death is her destiny, and the Oath is ours."

Maedhros looked at his brother and Maglor pained to see him so. Dark circles formed beneath his eyes for he was sick and weary of war and promises of revenge, as was Maglor.

"Then I will foreswear my Oath and doom myself to the void for, as long as she lives I know I can have peace in my heart. For as long as she will have me I will have hope and know happiness." And Maedhros smiled despondently as the memory of something Moryo had said to him once came to his mind, "_even if only for a little while."_

But Maglor still looked sadly at Maedhros.

* * *

~oOo~

Saeran had kept to herself for the past several days, leaving her rooms to go to Dannil's hill with Evon or to take her son for walks around the Keep. But aside from making sure her child was fed and cared for she did not speak to anyone. She just did not feel like it. She was tired. She felt drained. The events of the past week had taken a toll and she just wanted to be left alone. She was unsure of what to do anymore. Cormick and his people were recovering and were making plans to depart soon and she must decide what she was going to do. Maedhros had let her be for the most part. But he also had not left the Keep since they had returned. They skirted around each other. He seemed to sense that she did not know what she wanted anymore and kept his distance. He had been able to walk away so easily, deciding what was best for all involved. What _was_ best for all involved? She did not know if she could answer that question. She was so tired. Should she run? Should she stay? And what about Evon? She could not keep dragging her son out of this place only to get pulled back in, continually upending his surroundings. It was not fair to him as he had no choice. She found herself pondering the situation she had placed herself in. Bound for life to an elven lord. What had she been thinking? What had he been thinking? Why would he do this with her? What did the future hold for them if she were to stay? More mood swings would most likely be on the agenda. And it was not as if she were getting any younger. What will happen once she becomes old and wretched as he remains young and beautiful? Saeran dreaded the thought of wasting away, unable to look at him as she withered.

Saeran walked through the keep in the evenings always ending up in the main hall looking at the great tapestries that adorned the walls. Images of elves and monsters seemed to be the predominant theme but there were some that were not. Further to the back she found tapestries that held strange images that she found fascinating and frightening. One had the image of several elves around a body of water and standing before a bright figure that held his hand out to them. On another was a picture of two beautiful trees and several glowing figures that stood around them, including the one who held his hand out on the previous tapestry. Also on that tapestry was the image of a great white city and what she assumed was the king with his queen and their son but as Saeran's eyes traveled down to the next picture, the queen lay upon the ground and the king knelt next to her weeping. The next tapestry seemed to show images of the king and his son and what she assumed was the son's family. It did not take her long to realize that this must be the infamous Fëanor. His image was surrounded by is many great deeds but everything was centered around him as he held three bright stars. The silmarils. Saeran squinted hard at the image, desperately trying to see if she could find what made them so desirable causing anyone who came in contact with them to lose all reason. She sighed and turned to the next tapestry, the same feeling of dread coming over her whenever her gaze fell upon it. The two beautiful trees from earlier where nothing more that dried husks and the king lay crumpled on the ground in a heap. The glowing figures that had stood around the trees in previous pictures all wept, but the son stood tall and held his sword up in defiance at the dark shadowy figure that loomed over them. That was the image that frightened her most. It hung over everything, omnipresent and perverse. Its sickly yellow eyes stared menacingly and it wore a crown of three glowing orbs and monsters of fire raged behind it. Saeran gasped and her hand shot involuntarily to her neck as she realized where she had seen that figure before. Her heart began to race and her breathing quickened.

"Morgoth."

Saeran jumped in the air with a yelp and spun around to see Elrond staring at her wide eyed. He leaned back slightly and raised his hands up as if to say he meant no harm. Saeran slapped him hard on the arm.

"What is _wrong _with you?!" she said giving him a most exacerbated look. "Make some noise when you walk up behind a person, damn you elves!" She held her hand to her head and took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart. Elrond just looked at her. His face was expressionless but his eyes were lit up with mirth. Saeran glared at him and struggled not to start laughing.

"Stop it! It is not funny!" she cried raising her hand to hit him again. Elrond took a step back.

"No, it is not!"

"You scared the wits out of me!"

"I am sorry."

"I could have died!"

Elrond tilted his head and gave her a slightly incredulous look. "That might be going a bit far don't you think?"

"Shut up," she said and turned back to the tapestry, still looking at him from the corner of her eye as she shook her head. Elrond smiled widely and turned to the tapestry as well.

"Morgoth," he said again, "the darkening of Valinor, and the Oath of Fëanor. That is what you are looking at." Saeran looked back up at the beast on the tapestry. She looked at all of the images that seemed to cower at its gaze and one the one that stood tall and the seven beneath him. In the center of the seven stood one with his back to her, his red hair in contrast to the darkness around him.

"It has never ceased to amaze me how fathers can be so cruel to their sons and the things sons will do to earn that father's love."

"What Fëanor did was for the love of his father and I would not say Finwë was cruel."

"I thought what he did was for the love of those jewels."

"Yes and no. It can never be denied that Fëanor was not obsessed with the silmaril for they were a part of him and their like could never be duplicated not even by Fëanor himself. But the love he had for his father was second to none."

"Had his father not been killed do you believe Fëanor would have come to these lands?"

Elrond thought about this for a moment before he spoke. "That is hard to say for it is said that Fëanor was proud and despised Morgoth. I doubt he would have allowed such an insult without retribution. But I imagine that there is the possibility that the approach would have been different had Finwë lived for he was one of the last who Fëanor would bend to. Of course the history of this land would also have been quite different. The actions of Fëanor, for good or ill, have affected us all."

Saeran looked at the figure on the tapestry as Elrond spoke. _For good or ill_, she thought. She turned back to Elrond and gave him a questioning look. "How do you know all this?"

Elrond smiled. "I read." Saeran laughed.

"It seems like a sad topic for late night reading." But Elrond just kept smiling and shrugged.

"In memory is our great talent. The eldar love the world for we are bound to the life of these lands. Our long lives preserve the remembrance of ages before the living memory of mortal men, for it is vital if our kindreds are to grow. But memory also carries a burden of sorrow, and that gives poignancy to the stories of elves and men."

Saeran shook her head in disbelief and reminded herself that he was only sixteen.

"Saeran, as much as I would like to talk to you about the history of the eldar, there is something else I must discuss with you." Saeran looked at Elrond because his tone had become serious. "It is about Evon."

Saeran's eyes widened and she grabbed his arm. "What about Evon?" Elrond started at her reaction and realized how he had spoke.

"No, no, nothing is wrong!" he said holding his hands up again to calm her down. "I just wish to ask you a question!" Saeran let out the breath she had been holding and smacked him on the arm again.

"Really Elrond," Saeran said as she rubbed her temples, "we have to work on you conversation skills." She sighed and looked at him again. "Ask."

"Saeran," he paused as if looking for the rights words so as not to scare her again. "As you know, Elros and I are getting older and shall be leaving to make our way soon." Saeran looked at him.

"You're sixteen," she said.

"Yes," he answered. She looked at him again and shook her head.

"When are you planning on leaving?" she asked.

"Well, that has not been decided yet," he paused and looked at her pointedly, "because of Evon."

Saeran blinked. "Evon?"

"Yes, you see, when we leave . . . we would like for Evon to come with us." Saeran looked at Elrond as if he had sprouted another head.

"He's five."

"I know."

"When were you planning on leaving?" she asked again.

"If you were to give him permission to accompany us, it would be when he turns fifteen. From what I understand, that is the age that many young atani men are allowed to squire. Elros and I would very much like your permission for him to join us."

Saeran looked at the floor and covered her mouth as if she were in thought but in truth, she was trying not to laugh. He was so sincere in his request and she did not want him to think she was mocking him. But she could not help but be amused. Evon was five! They were only sixteen! He was so serious.

"Well, of course ultimately it will be up to Evon but," she paused and looked at Elrond, "that is still some time away Elrond. I feel that there is no rush to decide. Besides, who knows if we will even still be here when he is fifteen."

Elrond said nothing. He only looked at her in that peculiar way of his, his face unreadable and his eyes far off.

"Time has a way of moving faster than you think Saeran and as for your leaving, well . . . just promise me you will consider it." He suddenly seemed to snap back to attention as he looked at her. "I would also like to make some changes to his lessons, if that is alright?" Saeran smiled. _Back to books again_, she thought.

"Whatever you feel is best. He has already learned so much in yours and your brother's presence." She meant that. Elrond had to be one of the most well-read young men she had ever known and when she told him as much he surprised her with his response.

"Actually," he said, "that honor should go to Maedhros. He was a Master of Lore you know, before all," he gestured at the tapestries, "all this." Saeran blinked at that and looked at the red headed figure on the tapestry. "Almost all of the existing histories and records of the Noldor were written by either Maedhros or his father. Did you know –"

Saeran laid a hand on his shoulder. If she did not stop him he would go on all night and there were still things she must do. "Elrond," she said. He stopped and looked at her curiously but then a look of realization came across his face and he smiled slowly.

"I am doing it again yes?"

"Yes," she smiled. "Is Evon already to bed?"

"Yes, Elros is with him. Would you like to tell him good night?"

"I would. Would you like to escort me?" she asked.

"I would." When he grinned at her, he was the exact image of his brother.

They walked down the corridor to the twins rooms. Elros was in his usual spot upon his bed looking out of the window to the stars. He was always looking the heavens that one. Evon was already in his bed asleep. She walked over to where he lay and knelt down next to him to give him a kiss and brushed his hair out of his face.

"Did Elrond speak to you?" asked Elros from across the room still looking out the window. Saeran continued to run her fingers through Evon's hair.

"Yes he did. Although I still believe it is a little early to be making plans such as these." Elros shrugged.

"He is getting older Saeran. It will be here sooner than you think."

"Since when have you taken such an interest in his future?"

Elros looked at her and smiled. "I have always looked to the future Saeran. It is Elrond who has always held on to the past." Elrond sniffed at this.

"We have already had this discussion. She is still unsure if they will even remain at the keep," said Elrond as he opened a large book. "Leave her be."

Elros considered her for a moment upon hearing this. But then he shrugged and looked back out the window. "It matters not. If we must come to you, so be it. The request still stands."

"I do not want to leave."

All three heads turned to look at the small figure that lay behind Saeran. Evon looked up from where he lay at his mother, eyes wide and bright in the dim room.

"Go back to sleep love, now is not the time for this." She smiled at her son but he continued to stare at her, his face becoming obstinate and his voice peevish.

"_I do not want to leave_." He said it much louder this time and Elrond made a _tsk_ noise with his tongue and Elros gave him a stern look.

"Mind yourself child. You are speaking to your mother."

Evon flinched at the tone of Elros's voice but said nothing. He rolled over and pulled his cover up over his head. Saeran sat there for a moment before she leaned down to give Evon a kiss through the covers over him. She slowly stood up, bid the twins good night and left the room.

Saeran walked down the corridor from the twins rooms. It did not surprise her, his show of defiance. It was unfair of her to continue to uproot him and place him in danger. She should be thinking of what was best for her son. Unfortunately, she was unsure of how to do this when she did not know what was best for her.

Saeran walked past a set of doors and heard voices from behind them. One of the voices she recognized right away. Maedhros was speaking to his brother. She could not understand what they were saying as they spoke in that musical language of theirs but she could tell from the emotion that was coming off of Maedhros that it was intense. There was no anger in his voice but frustration tinged with anguish came through to her and she struggled not to enter the room and go to him. Maedhros suddenly stopped talking and awareness flooded her senses. He knew she was there. He knew she was listening. She stifled a gasp and stepped back away from the door and ran down the hall.

Shame and embarrassment heated her face and she did not stop till reached the doors to her room. Only when she opened the doors she looked around in confusion for it was not her room she was in. It was his. She stood there for a moment and looked around. The accommodations in his room were always sparse. A desk, a bed, a wardrobe and a chest were the extent of the furnishings aside from the two chairs that sat in front of the fireplace. The only striking feature was that one wall was completely covered with book shelves and books and parchments lined every inch of them. The wall suddenly took on a whole new meaning with Elrond's revelation about Maedhros.

Saeran walked up to the bookshelf and carefully pulled one of the ornately leather-bound books from the shelf knocking down a few rolls of parchment in the process. She set it down on the adjacent desk and opened it with a creak of stiff leather and paper. She looked down at the print and pursed her lips in dismay. It was written in some strange flowing hand that she had no idea how to read. The book could have been upside down for all she knew. She turned it around just to make sure. Nope. Still could not read it. She looked at the pages and noticed that there was handwriting in the margins. Symbols had been crossed out and replaced with other ones. The handwriting was just as flowing and lyrical as the print. She closed the book and slid it back into its place on the shelf and bent down to pick up the parchment. As she did one particular roll caught her attention. It was thicker than the others and she slowly untied the binding and rolled it out flat. Upon opening it she realized it was a sketch book and began flipping through the pages. There were sketches of animals and landscapes and several of children of various ages. The renderings were layered and detailed and seemed to almost move on the page. The one constant in almost all of the drawings was a woman. Saeran found her to be quite beautiful and every illustration portrayed her in the most loving of ways. In one she stood looking fearlessly across a great precipice, in another she was sleeping, her head resting on another's shoulder. In the next she was nude and heavy with child as she laughed while wading in water. Saeran turned the page to see her sitting with a baby to her breast, her eyes gazing lovingly down at the precious bundle in her arms. On the following page the woman lay on her back in a suggestive way and her eyes held a promise of passion that made Saeran smile and blush for she noticed how this drawing was unfinished and did not wonder as to why. She continued to flip through and wondered who she was, for whoever she was, she was obviously revered. Saeran sighed and closed the sketch book and rolled it back up, refastening the ties. She turned to place it back on the book shelf and upon looking up, froze. Maedhros was standing silently in the doorway watching her.

He stood with his head tilted slightly as he studied her intently. Why did she not feel it when he entered? She cursed the inconsistency of her awareness of the bond they shared. She did not understand why one moment his presence blazed forth and the next it was a muddled mystery revealing nothing. How was he able to hide himself and why did he continue to do so. They both stood there staring at each other and Saeran became frustrated at the lack of her awareness. _Stop hiding_ she thought angrily. A sudden rush of heat coursed through her body and her eyes went wide and her face flushed as it became very clear what he was feeling. Maedhros showed nothing though. He simply stepped completely into the room and closed the door behind him and continued to stare at her, waiting. Her heart began to pound and her head became confused. All of the things she was going to say, the speeches she had planned were gone from her mind and all she could do was look at him, too scared to move or she would give herself away. Maedhros walked slowly to where she stood and gently took the rolled up sketch book from her hands and placed it back on the shelf and turned to face her. She looked up into his face and thought she may cry out in despair. His face was drawn and dark bruises circled his eyes from the lack of respite. His expression betrayed nothing but she looked in his eyes, the fires within flickered forlornly and she thought she may weep. She brought her hands to his face and brushed the dark skin under is eyes with her thumbs. He closed his eyes at her touch and leaned into her hands. She brushed his hair out of his face as she had done with Evon earlier and tucked the red locks behind his ear. She ran her fingers along is jaw and down the line of his neck, stopping to rest on his chest and over his heart. His hand came up and took hers and he looked at her as she moved her face closer to his.

At first their lips just lay lightly against the other, taking in the touch that had not been felt for some time, barely breathing. But when her lips parted slightly against his, he wrapped his arm hesitantly around her waist and brought a shaking hand up to her face as he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. The kiss was slow at first as they savored the taste and feel of the other again. But when she put her arms around his neck and pressed against him, he kissed her more fervently. And when she pulled herself up harder against him, he was hesitant no more. He pushed her up against the wall and clothes were being torn off and discarded furiously. His mouth moved over her in a desperate frenzied need to cover every part of her body. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he gasped pulling her away from the wall and they fell on to the bed in a tangle, limbs entwined around the other.

They lay there after the throes of their passion were spent. Maedhros lay atop of Saeran, his head resting on her chest and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist while she lay on her back, one hand gripping a fistful of his hair as the other clutched his back. Both of them panting heavily in an attempt to catch their breath and holding desperately onto the other as if afraid they might leave.

Saeran stared up at the ceiling and knew. She knew it was too late for either of them now. For good or ill, her fate was interminably linked to his.


	16. Chapter 16

There is no slash here. But there is the suggestion of two young boys who are dealing with the confusion of feelings and finding out who they are. If you are easily offended then I suggest you do not read on. Again thank you for all of the wonderful reviews and words of encouragement. They are greatly appreciated.

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

* * *

~oOo~

_They pushed the horses as hard as they would go. The light of Laurelin was waning and Telperion was just starting to wake. It made no matter to them. They pushed on through the Calacirya and towards the woods of Oromë. They feared nothing as they ran on for they were young and blessed and had no reason to believe in the ills that lay beyond their lands for what other lands could there be? None as perfect as this. They were princes of the greatest of royal houses, they were the first born, and in this moment in time they were free. Free from the monotonous daily droning of lessons and etiquette. Free from the stress and pressure of the animosity of rival fathers. They were free to be young men, flush with youth and longing for great adventures. Maitimo reigned in his steed and Findekáno slowed beside him. Their laughter bounced off the walls of the high mountain pass as Maitimo leapt off his horse and ran to where they would set up the encampment with Findekáno close on his heels. He ran into the clearing and collapsed and Findekáno fell with him both breathless from laughter and exertion. They lay on their backs and looked to the sky, the last of Laurelin faded as the cool white touch of Telperion dominated. Maitimo stared at the stars that began to twinkle into life above and wondered if there could ever be a moment as perfect as this. He closed his eyes and listened to the horses scampering about the outskirts of the clearing and the rustling of the grass bending in the wind. Crickets began chirping in a chorus of sound, swelling to crescendo as Laurelin faded completely away and Telperion came into full glory. Maitimo was almost lost in the song when he felt something brush against his lips. _

"_Káno," Maitimo said gently admonishing. Findekáno sat up and drew himself away quickly._

"_Forgive me," he said._

"_I have talked to you about this Káno." _

"_Forgive me. I do not understand what is wrong with me." He turned away, tears of shame hot in his eyes. _

"_There is nothing wrong with you. You are young. You think you feel something you do not."_

"_You keep telling me that and yet it does not stop."_

"_I am hard to resist," Maitimo said with a smile in an attempt to lighten the mood_

"_No Maitimo, no," Káno said. He turned back to him now, his eyes were desperate and imploring, the pain in them tangible. "No jokes, no laughter this time. I must know why. Why do you continue to accompany me knowing what you do . . . how I feel? The truth Maitimo please . . . why?"_

_Maitimo looked at his cousin a moment, for the first time in a long time unsure of what to do. What should he do? Expose them both to an eternity of what cannot be? Throw caution to the wind and act upon instincts? In the end he did what he always did. He carefully wrapped the truth in a pretty little lie._

"_Because you are my most cherished cousin and brother and I love you."_

_Findekáno flinched slightly as if he had been struck but pulled himself together quickly. "Yes of course," he said absently, the desperate need in his eyes slowly draining away to forlorn emptiness. "Cherished cousin and brother, of course. You are older and wiser. It is proper for me to listen to your counsel. I am a child and acting a fool. Forgive me Maitimo. Do not let me ruin the night. We will set up our tents and then in the morn on to the hunt."_

_Maitimo watched him as he walked away; fake smile upon his face, forced joviality in is step. He ignored the tightness in his chest and told himself that this was right. It was what must be done. He was older after all and therefore must act wiser. Káno was still a child in many ways and regardless of how he may think he feels he must be responsible. He is eldest son of the High Prince Fëanáro, eldest grandson to the High King Finwë. It was his duty to do right by those who looked up to him. It is wrong to feel what he does. It is a small sacrifice for they are both young after all, and naïve in many ways. Their whole life is still ahead of them and who knew what the future might bring. Yes this is right, he thought, it is more important to always do what is right. And with that he turned away from his most cherished cousin and brother and ignored the feel of his heart breaking._

* * *

~oOo~

He was dreaming again. His eyes fluttering lightly at whatever hazy visions danced through his unconscious. She held her breath and very carefully removed herself from under his arm. She did not dare wake him, not this time. Slowly, she inched herself to the corner of the bed cautious and controlled so as not to make and unnecessary movement that would disturb him in any way. She kept herself away from their bond as well, not wanting to feel anything that might compel her to wake him. His hand twitched slightly but his breathing remained steady and slow. Once she made it to the far corner of the bed she pulled her knees up against her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and watched him as he slept. The night was dark outside and no light shown in through the windows and yet his body seemed to reflect some inner luminescence making him capable of vividness even in the dark of the room. His hair spilled like blood over the bed, it was dark and rich and his scent still filled her senses. She looked upon his sleeping form. Scars snaked across his back marring the perfection of his skin. They ran across his arms and legs, some taking on circle like patterns, as if he had been bitten or chewed in places along his body. She winced as she looked at them and wondered how anyone could live through such a thing. Some thirty years of torture he had endured. What kind of life force can one have to survive such a thing, what kind of strength to live through something so horrible? How strong their spirits were, these elves. To have lived through what he had lived through, there must be something more. Surely his gods did not allow him to survive just to further his torment. His life force was too intense to be so easily snuffed out

He was of the earth, forged from the fires of another and descendent of one of the first to wake in these lands. At times when she touched him his skin burned so hot she would wince from the heat and yet unable to pull herself away, willing to endure it for just one more moment near him. Sometimes she thought she may go blind when she would stare into the searing white of his light when it would engulf her and still she could not turn away. And so, recklessly she flew into the sun that was his being. She wondered how long could she continue? There is only so long one can play with fire without getting burned. Only so long one can stare into the sun before going blind. She knew the danger, the risk she took, and still she stayed. And she hated herself for it. For while he was eternal, living forever young and beautiful, cold and fey through the ages, she was only fleeting, grasping along the edges of his long life in a desperate attempt to be remembered. How she wished she could remain young and bound to him forever, never to grow old or waste away. She could save him from his curse. She can prevent the doom that had been handed down so unfairly. She could change his fate . . . couldn't she?

A rustle of the covers in front of her pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see two silver grey eyes studying her in the dark.

He watched her through the curtain of his hair as she stared out the window lost in her thoughts. She was always thinking about something that one. How she felt inadequate in his presence. How she did not think she was worthy of his attention. Confused as to why he even gave his attention to her. She was uncertain of their future and torturing herself over her mortality. He often thought about telling her she thought too much but decided against it. He did not feel like getting pelted with horse droppings again.

He had dreamed of Káno again. He had dreamed of Káno but this time did not wake up writhing in pain, his arm throbbing mercilessly. She was not Káno. He was gone and Maedhros prayed he found peace in the halls of Mandos. But that was the past and for too long Maedhros has held on to it. For too long he had dogged himself with memories of regret. She was his present now and he would bathe himself in her light. If she could not see how beautiful she was in his eyes then he would make her see. If she could not believe that he will stay with her when she is long for this world and weary with age then he would prove to her he will never leave. The thought of her departing before him was painful but he would endure it, although it was a heavy price to pay. He would not think of that now. His entire existence has been about sacrifice, but tonight, well tonight was about her. He pushed his hair away from his face and rolled over onto his back so he could see her fully. She did not move, only turned her head towards him.

He sat up and looked at her. They sat there for several moments, studying each other, not speaking until finally he held his hand out to her and she crawled back over to him. He leaned back against the headboard as she sat astride him and they continued to stare. She placed her fingers along his face and traced them across is lips as if marking every feature to memory. He reached up, placing his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his. He kissed her slow and deep and savored the feel of her. He leaned up and away from the headboard and sat up straight to pull her body against him, looking up at her as she sat atop him, her legs moving around his waist, her arms around his neck. Gone was the frenzied rush of earlier, they moved slowly now, deliberately. The softness of her skin pressed against his chest and the warmth of her body pulled him in. His sudden ragged intake of breath betrayed his control and he struggled to contain himself as he became lost in the dark depths of her eyes, so unlike the cold grey of his own. She held him tighter and he buried his face into her neck, feeling her pulse quicken as his mouth moved against it. He felt her shudder as he pressed his mouth against the hollow of her throat and he let out a soft moan as his hand held her hip, their bodies moving in rhythm. She turned her face down towards him and he kissed her hungrily as her fëa coursed through him and their movement quickened. Damn the consequences. This he would not turn away. Damn the cost. This he would not lose. He let go of the past and grasped desperately at the future.

* * *

~oOo~

Maglor sat at the table listening to Elrond and Elros discuss the war in the north and the involvement of the elves of Valinor and the forces of Men and Dwarves. Elrond felt that the Valar had to intervene and was disappointed that they refused their aid as long as they did, as they were the only ones who could defeat Morgoth. Elros felt that the forces of Arda combined would have been enough had they remained true and all fought for a one true cause. Evon sat next to Maglor, eyes and ears riveted to the conversation, darting back and forth between them as they debated. Maglor tapped him lightly on the shoulder and Evon turned to Maglor to see him gesture at the plate of food before him. Evon looked at his food and absentmindedly picked up a piece of fruit and stuck it in his mouth, is full attention back on the conversation in front of him. Maglor smiled and shook his head. The boy looked at the peredhil with nothing short of the worship a young sibling has for older ones. He followed them as if he was their shadow and the peredhil encouraged it. Elrond, always pleased to have an ever enraptured audience for his lectures and Elros, always thrilled to have a messenger for his mischief and sport. They doted on Evon as they should. The younger brother neither was able to have, a family member that they did not come by through tragedy. It saddened Maglor to imagine what his existence will be like once they left for he knew that once they were gone from the Keep they would never return. He watched the peredhil as they conversed. Elrond was calmly making his points and counterpoints, unflustered and maddeningly benign, while Elros was colorfully rebutting and challenging, animated and enthusiastically vibrant. As if to emphasize this point Elros threw his hands in the air in a most exasperated manner.

"Unbelieveable. You should have more faith in the peoples of these lands Elrond. Their hearts are true to their purpose once found."

"It is not that I lack faith in their hearts Elros," Elrond replied. "They have proven more than once their hearts can be true, the problem is that they find purpose in both good and ill."

"That is the way of this world brother and the gift that has been given to us. We have a freedom of choice."

"Which is why the coming of the Valar and Maiar was necessary for they are the only creatures that are wholly devoted for the purpose of the One and only they can truly with stand the temptations of the evils of the Enemy."

"Ah," said Elros eyes bright and moving to the edge of his seat, "but Morgoth himself was of the Valar and yet wholly devoted to evil and has several of the Maiar who follow him devoted to his cause as well." Elrond simply shook his head lackadaisically and leaned down to pick up the harp at his feet.

"Morgoth rebelled against the One from the beginning, sewing his seed of discord in the very first song." Elrond plucked at one of the stings and twisted a tuning pin. "The Maiar who followed him were some of the first created, babes if you will, weak and easily corrupted and tainted by the dissonance of the song."

Elros narrowed his eyes. "But you admit that they were corrupted and found purpose in the ills of the world."

"I admit they were misled by one they trusted and believed in, following what they thought was right for them at the time for they were not created specifically for independent thought, only to assist those wiser than they." Elros threw his arms in the air and flung himself back against his seat. Elrond looked at his brother unconcernedly and plucked a string from the harp. "For a Maiar to turn away from their purpose and seek to dominate well that would go against all that they are, all they were created to be. They would be stripped of their true purpose and become empty shells, constantly seeking to fill the hollowness of their existence with foul deeds."

"You . . . you . . . you are the most . . . frustrating, the most . . . infuriating. You could argue blood from a stone!"

"Why would I do that when I have you?" _Twang_ went the harp.

"I may have to strike you about the face," said Elros flatly. Elrond merely gave him a half smile and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Am I wicked?"

All three heads at the table turned to look at the small boy who spoke.

"No of course not," said Elros looking at Evon with curiosity and a small amount of concern. "What makes you say that?"

"If some of my people were . . . then what would stop me from doing ill deeds? Would that not make me wicked too?"

"Do you want to be wicked?" Elrond asked.

"No."

"Then you shall not."

"But what if I don't mean too? What if I thought I was doing the right thing but it was really wrong?" Elros brows furrowed and he shook his head. Elrond opened his mouth to speak but stopped when he saw Maglor reach over to Evon and place his hand under his chin, turning the child's face towards him.

"Then you would seek to make amends," Maglor said gently, "and right the wrongs you have done."

"Is it that easy?"

"No," Maglor smiled, "but you would do it any way and seek forgiveness. To make amends."

"To make amends," the twins echoed softly in unison. They were all silent for a brief moment, and then Maglor sighed and clapped his hands together.

"Come, I have allowed you to tarry here long enough. You shall head to the study and start your languages. Maedhros will be leading your sparring lessons." This elicited a groan from Elros.

"The bruises from the last lesson are just starting to disappear!"

"Well," said Evon, "maybe you should keep your feet on the ground." Elrond burst out with laughter and even Maglor chuckled. Elros let out a loud gasp of shock and looked at Evon with wide-eyed surprise.

"Not you too!" he shouted and grabbed the boy, spinning him so that he held Evon upside down as he squealed with laughter. Elros carried him down out of the room that way and Evon's laughter could be heard echoing down the hall. Elrond stood up with the harp still in his hands.

"Will we be having any music today?" he asked as he gathered up his things. Maglor looked at him.

"You enjoy those lessons do you?" Maglor asked, lightly teasing. Elrond was extremely fond of his music and quite the proficient. Maglor was very proud of his talent.

"As much as I can with this," he scowled at the wooden harp in his hands. It was of his own making and he never quite liked it. "It is not nearly as fine as yours."

Maglor smiled and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "This," Maglor pointed at the harp in Elrond's hand, "is not the instrument that makes the music special Elrond." Elrond gave him a little half smile.

"I know," he said, "but a nicer one would certainly help." Maglor laughed and turned him around and led him towards the hall.

"Go on with you. They will do nothing productive till you arrive."

Maglor watched Elrond walk away, Evon's laughter still bouncing down the hall. Maglor turned and walked back to the table and sat down. Saeran had not joined them this morning. He did not recall seeing Maedhros either. Maglor rubbed at his temples and hoped that they would be adults this time. The moping around the Keep the two of them had been doing had become quite tiresome to him. He had tried to talk to Maedhros about the behavior and instead was met with obstinate preadolescent pouting. He supposed that as long as feces were not being flung through the air then some progress was made. Maglor's mouth pressed into a thin line as he tried to suppress a smile at the memory. Her aim was quite good actually. Maglor sighed and closed his eyes and prayed to Eru she would have a long life. He heard movement at the table and looked up to see Senwë standing before him. Maglor stood up.

"Forgive me Senwë, I will clear this." Maglor began to remove items from the table but Senwë waved him off. One of his sons, Vinion perhaps, came up behind him with a bundle and handed it to his father and began to assist with clearing the table. Sinwë turned and handed the bundle to Maglor.

"For the lord Maedhros's lady." Maglor kept his expression carfully neutral and inclined his head as he took the bundle from the older man. "She likes the fresh fruit. I collected these just this morn."

"Thank you Senwë, I am sure she will appreciate it."

"Let our little sister know we are looking forward to her visits again." And then he turned and left, his son trailing behind him. Maglor watched them go somewhat in a state of shock. Senwë has been with them manning the kitchens since before Maglor was born perhaps even before his father was born for his father had spoken of memories of Senwë sneaking treats to him when he was a child. He had served and loved his father dearly, vowing to remain true to the House of Fëanáro till the end. And in all that time this was perhaps the longest conversation he had ever heard Senwë have. _The lord Maedhros's lady, _thought Maglor wryly. _Looks as if the secret is out._ At that moment Thannor entered the hall at the main entrance.

"Maglor," he called, "there are more refugees come through." Thannor paused for a moment before he spoke again. "Easterlings."

Maglor's eyes narrowed and his visage cold. "Do they have women and children or wounded with them?"

"No. All men."

"Send them on their way. We have nothing for them." Thannor nodded and left. Maglor took the bundle Senwë gave him and headed down the corridor.

* * *

~oOo~

Maedhros lay on his side in the bed, Saeran's back pressed up against his stomach, his arms around her and their legs tangled. She slept peacefully, free of dreams and he was content to stay here and hold her. He buried his face in her hair. The sun was climbing higher but he had no intention of moving. Not yet. He felt the rise and fall of her chest and the beat of her heart against him; he felt how their lights intermingled contentedly through the bond they shared. The conversation from last night ran through his memory.

"_You will stay then."_

"_Yes . . . will you?"_

"_Yes."_

"_I will grow old," she said solemnly._

"_I already am," he answered her nonplussed._

_She grabbed his face and looked him fixedly in the eye. "I will waste away Maedhros, while you stay young, I will fade."_

"_Then I shall too, for if you leave I will not be long for this world." _

"_It does not sound like such a happy ending to me . . . how will you even be able to look at me?"_

"_How could I not? Enough of this, let us enjoy what we will now for these are the moments that are most precious to me." _

"_Dwell no more among the dead and tend to the living?"_

"_Wise words from a wise man no doubt."_

"_You are an –" _

She was unable to finish for he had kissed her then. For him, the discussion was over.


End file.
